


changed all the things that you told me to change

by famey88



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alpha Jackson Whittemore, Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anger, Angry Jackson Whittemore, BAMF Jackson Whittemore, Background Relationships, Bad Alpha Derek Hale, Beta Jackson Whittemore, Bottom Isaac, Bottom Isaac Lahey, Casual Sex, Communication, Control, Control Issues, Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, Driving, Dubious Consent, Empath, Empathy, Enthusiastic Consent, Ethics, Exams, Flirting, Food Issues, Guilt, Hair-pulling, Hurt Isaac Lahey, Insecurity, Isaac Lahey Deserves Nice Things, Isaac Lahey Feels, Isaac Lahey Needs a Hug, Isaac Lahey is a Little Shit, Isolation, It's Hard and Nobody Understands, Jackson Needs a Hug, Jackson Whittemore Needs a Hug, Jackson Whittemore Returns, Jackson Whittemore is Bad at Feelings, Jackson Whittemore-Centric, Jealous Jackson, Jealous Jackson Whittemore, Jealousy, Kanima Jackson Whittemore, Kanima-Werewolf Jackson Whittemore, Knotting, Lack of Communication, Law School, Lies, M/M, McCall Pack, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Minor Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey, Minor Corey Bryant/Mason Hewitt, Minor Derek Hale/Isaac Lahey, Minor Ethan/Jackson Whittemore, Minor Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Minor Original Character(s), Minor Scott McCall/Malia Tate, Monogamy, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Obsessive Behavior, Omega Isaac Lahey, Omega Verse, One Night Stands, POV Jackson Whittemore, Pack, Pack Bonding, Pack Building, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Pack Feels, Pack Politics, Past Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Past Relationship(s), Pheromones, Platonic Relationships, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Jackson Whittemore, Possessive Sex, Poverty, Protective Isaac Lahey, Protective Jackson, Protective Jackson Whittemore, Protective Pack, Protectiveness, Relationship Negotiation, Road Trips, Rough Sex, Sad Jackson Whittemore, Scent Marking, Secrets, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Self-Indulgent, Stalking, Stanford University, Top Jackson, Top Jackson Whittemore, Training, Unhealthy Relationships, Wealth, Werewolf Biology, Werewolf Culture, Werewolf Jackson Whittemore, Werewolf Politics, Werewolf Sex, Wish Fulfillment, Wolf Instincts, Wolf Pack, Wolf Sex, Wolfed Out Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:42:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 61,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28524918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/famey88/pseuds/famey88
Summary: In which Jackson is a sad, lonely man, but Isaac comes along and cheers him up by being very infuriating."Because that’s the real reason, isn’t it, that he’d gotten out of bed and rushed across town at 1 am.  Not despite the fact that it wasIsaac Laheythat asked for a favor, but because of it.  Because Jackson can apologize and make amends to most of the people he’d been an asshole to back in the day, and he’s mostly accepted that he’s not actually at fault for what he’d done as the kanima, but no amount of apologies and amends will ever make up for what he’d done, or really hadn’t done, for Isaac.  Jackson hadn’t quite realized until just then how much that had been weighing on him, how much he wants, needs to try making it up to Isaac anyway.  How it feels like a mandatory first step to reforming his pack."
Relationships: Isaac Lahey/Jackson Whittemore
Comments: 11
Kudos: 56





	1. text chicken with Isaac Lahey at 1 am on a random Thursday

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year! I spent most of 2020 working on this monster on and off during lockdown and figured this is a great time to finally post. Here's to a better 2021. 
> 
> This fic is completed and new chapters will be uploaded several times a week as I wrap up final edits. The whole thing is ~60k words. 
> 
> This is not your daddy's A/B/O but has some A/B/O elements.
> 
> Thanks to [untitledproject](/users/untitledproject/) for tolerating my endless demands for beta services.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac’s eyes flash gold in annoyance but he doesn’t move. Jackson looks at Isaac and blinks in confusion for a moment before the information slots into place in his mind. Isaac’s become a _true_ omega since Jackson saw him last, and he’s the one New Wolf had been addressing. Not some lone wolf, who also sometimes derisively get that title, but the stuff of pornographic legend – rare to find; devastatingly beautiful; succubus-like sex drive humans and most betas can’t keep up with; able to emit pheromones that can get almost anyone to do almost anything; naturally, helplessly submissive; love to cook and clean and keep house; the most perfect, desirable mates regardless of your sexual orientation. Allegedly. Jackson’s watched omega porn on werewolf websites like any other young werewolf, but he knows better than to think there’s much factual basis to it.

_Come get me_ , the first text says.

Jackson Whittemore blinks blearily, not sure what woke him, before realizing it was a buzz on his phone. He grabs at where it sits on his nightstand and knocks it on to the floor instead, cursing as he rummages around the floor in the dark when it lights up again.

_Club Chaand_ , the second text says _._

He grabs his phone, swiping past the lockscreen picture of Ethan and himself that he keeps intending and forgetting to change, and reads the texts before it goes dark again, frowning both because someone’s dared wake him just past 1 am and because his werewolf skills are getting rusty from his first month at Stanford Law, which had been blessedly supernatural free.

Jackson doesn’t recognize the number it’s coming from, but the 650 indicates it’s a Palo Alto number. He knows absolutely no one that he should be picking up from nightclubs so assumes the texts are from some drunk idiot with a wrong number and is about to settle back in to sleep when his phone buzzes again.

_It’s Isaac._

Jackson stares at the text in disbelief. He’d known the pack would find him sooner or later, especially given that he’s more or less hiding in plain sight, but he’d always assumed it’d be McCall or Stilinski to reach out, no doubt with some dire werewolf emergency. Not his strange former neighbor, who hadn’t even come back to Beacon Hills to fight Monroe and Argent, and not to be picked up from a nightclub, of all things, as if Jackson were some Uber driver.

_Lahey_ , the next text says, as if Jackson knows tons of Isaacs. He supposes he might, as far as Lahey knows.

_Fuck off_ , he types into the phone, and holds his thumb over the send button. Three dots pop up, indicating Lahey’s typing something else. Jackson deletes his own text and waits. The three dots disappear. Jackson glowers at the phone. Lahey can send his text first, goddamnit. But minutes pass and no additional text arrives, and the three dots don’t appear again either. How the fuck he’d gotten himself involved in playing text chicken with Isaac Lahey at 1 am on a random Thursday is beyond him.

_Fuck off_ , he types again, then deletes it again. He just shouldn’t respond. Jackson may feel some reluctant fealty to Scott McCall for being one of the only people who’d actually tried to save Jackson when he’d been a murderous lizard, but who the fuck is Isaac Lahey to him?

Except.

_Omw_ , he types, and hits send before he can change his mind. Jackson sighs and gets dressed. He really misses the days when he was just a peak douchebag all the time without feeling too guilty about it.

Jackson looks up the address and drives too fast across town to where the club is, in the Audi he’d gotten himself in place of his former Porsche. He knows he’s made a mistake the minute he parks and walks up outside of the club. The place is crawling with werewolves. There’s a male and female smoking and chatting outside, the bouncer is a third, and Jackson is sure there’s more inside.

Jackson’s gotten good at sensing his kind, their subtly different smell, the predator in their body language. He’s noticed a few werewolves around Palo Alto and the Stanford campus, but none in his classes or apartment building, so he’s just avoided them and while he’s sure some have noticed him, none have approached, which he likes just fine.

The smoking pair eye him openly now, but continue chatting as if he’s not there. Jackson’s pretty certain he’s an idiot walking into some kind of trap. Why the fuck would Lahey even text him, of all people? The texts could have been from anyone.

Jackson slowly strolls up to the club’s entrance, not quite sure what’s propelling him. In for a penny, in for a pound? He’s sped all the way across town and Lahey _might_ really be inside. Might be in trouble, he tells himself. Werewolf trouble, maybe. And while Jackson’s not the sort to go looking for trouble anymore, he’s more than capable of handling himself and rescuing a wayward beta. London had been… difficult, and Jackson had focused most of his time there trying to hone his werewolf and remaining kanima skills to precision. After being used as a mindless assassin, he refuses to ever be out of control again.

Jackson hands his ID to the bouncer. The bouncer barely gives it a glance, eyes only for Jackson. He looks young, maybe eighteen, but he towers over Jackson, and he lets his eyes glow werewolf gold, clearly trying to intimidate and not caring who sees. His nametag reads Cody.

Jackson’s wolf wants to growl and flash blue eyes back at Cody, meet his challenge and declare himself the superior wolf, but he knows openly revealing himself as a killer of innocents is not a good idea. He meets Cody gaze boldly, though. He doesn’t need wolf eyes to intimidate if he’s precise enough.

_I’m a killer_ , he projects calmly with his gaze, looking down his nose even as he tilts his head up to the taller werewolf. _I’m a virtually unkillable kanima-werewolf hybrid who’s come back from the dead more than once. You don’t want to know how many people I’ve killed with my paralytic-laced claws and prehensile tail. How many rogue hunters and supernaturals I’ve taken off the streets._

Cody’s eyes go back to brown and he lowers his gaze in submission before glancing back at Jackson, looking confused at his own actions. Jackson graces him with his best homecoming king smile, his grumpy sleep-deprived mood slightly improved. Jackson had forgotten how good it feels to be in his element, undeniably strong, powerful, briefly living the idiotic teenage fantasy he’d once had of what being a werewolf would be like.

Jackson’s come to think of flashing wolf eyes as something for young, untrained betas, likes to think he’s better than it. He resists the urge to clap Cody on the shoulder and wish him better luck next time.

“Cover’s twenty bucks,” Cody grunts out. Jackson hands the requisite cash to the bored-looking human girl at the club entrance, who seems not to know or care that she’s surrounded by supernatural shapeshifters, and saunters past into the club, waving jauntily at the smokers.

The pounding music, fog machine and stench of stale sweat and alcohol as he walks through the short hallway leading to the dance floor are immediately overwhelming and Jackson winces, any good mood quickly dissipating. He remembers why he hates nightclubs, bars, parties, anywhere loud and crowded. He can sense werewolves around him, but the club is too much of an assault on his enhanced senses to immediately identify them. He grabs a wall and forces himself to breathe, shallow and quick, forces his focus to sharpen.

It takes longer than he’d like but eventually he’s breathing normally, sweeping his senses around the dance floor, trying to tune out the overloud music. The patrons are packed in like sardines, dancing and grinding and shoving their way to the bar. They’re mostly human, but he counts six or seven werewolves interspersed among them. He wonders how the fuck he’s supposed to find Lahey in this mess before smoker woman from outside comes back in the club and jerks her head for Jackson to follow her up a filthy-looking staircase Jackson hadn’t yet noticed. She leads him to a dingy little room, presumably some kind of manager or security office, given the video screens showing various camera angles of the dance floor below, and leaves without a word.

Isaac Lahey is sitting on an uncomfortable looking wooden chair, glaring at yet another werewolf standing next to him. Jackson doesn’t recall having given much thought to his former neighbor’s physical appearance previously, but his huge blue eyes, striking bone structure, luxuriantly thick dark blond hair and lanky limbs, even the smell of him, suddenly and confusingly seem like the most appealing combination possible. Every one of Jackson’s wolf instincts says to grab Isaac (and since when is he Isaac anyway?) and make himself a protective barrier between Isaac and the new wolf.

But Jackson’s learned a lot about when to resist in his instincts from over six years in the supernatural world. He doesn’t move, just looks at New Wolf calmly, projecting dominance and danger with his human eyes like he had with Cody downstairs. He knows already this one won’t be so easy, though. New Wolf is not an alpha, but not some freshly-minted wolf either. He looks to be in his early-to-mid-twenties like Jackson and Isaac, tall and dark-skinned.

New Wolf raises an eyebrow, meeting Jackson’s eyes steadily. “This your packmate?” he asks.

“Yes,” Isaac answers before Jackson can.

“Well aren’t you going to greet him properly then, omega?” New Wolf sneers, still not looking away from Jackson.

Isaac’s eyes flash gold in annoyance but he doesn’t move. Jackson looks at Isaac and blinks in confusion for a moment before the information slots into place in his mind. Isaac’s become a _true_ omega since Jackson saw him last, and he’s the one New Wolf had been addressing. Not some lone wolf, who also sometimes derisively get that title, but the stuff of pornographic legend – rare to find; devastatingly beautiful; succubus-like sex drive humans and most betas can’t keep up with; able to emit pheromones that can get almost anyone to do almost anything; naturally, helplessly submissive; love to cook and clean and keep house; the most perfect, desirable mates regardless of your sexual orientation. Allegedly. Jackson’s watched omega porn on werewolf websites like any other young werewolf, but he knows better than to think there’s much factual basis to it.

Well. That explains some of his sudden attraction and protective instinct, at least.

“That’s none of your concern,” Jackson says coldly, turning his gaze back on New Wolf. He’s seen what a proper omega greeting is supposed to be in the pornos, the actor playing an omega on their knees nuzzling their face obsequiously against the crotch of the actor playing the alpha like there’s no greater thrill in the world than being near sweaty alpha balls. The thought of Isaac having to do that in front of this stranger affronts Jackson’s sensibilities in ways he doesn’t quite understand. Jackson ignores New Wolf’s efforts to restart the staring match and turns dismissively. “Let’s go,” he says to Isaac, holding out a hand. He tries to make his tone both kind and authoritative, what he imagines a skittish omega would respond well to.

Isaac places a slender, long-fingered hand into Jackson’s and lets Jackson pull him up and out of the chair. Jackson misjudges and pulls a little too hard, and Isaac stumbles into his side with a little gasp. They’re gloriously pressed together and Jackson is momentarily overwhelmed with the scents of what he now identifies as _omega_ and _pack_ and _home_. Jackson’s arm moves seemingly of its own volition to wrap around Isaac’s waist, holding him in place. He turns his head to nod at New Wolf. “Thank you for returning him.”

New Wolf rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he says. “Keep a tighter leash on your bitch, some of my newer betas are still learning control.”

Jackson considers showing him what a tighter leash feels like, but decides he just wants to get Isaac and himself out of there. “You’re not an alpha,” slips out instead, accusatory in response to the reference to having betas.

New Wolf raises an eyebrow. “Neither are you.”

Jackson flushes but doesn’t respond, he’s well aware that omegas are meant to belong to alphas, so at best, Jackson should be collecting Isaac on behalf of one.

“I’m Sinqua,” Sinqua continues, “second to Lily Hamamura, alpha in these parts.” He eyes the pair of them, considering. “You should come see her, she’d want to meet you.”

“Jackson,” Jackson says warily. “We’re not causing any trouble.” 

Sinqua snorts. “Omegas are always trouble, Jackson. Here,” he says, handing Jackson a business card. “Don’t wait too long.” He grins in a way Jackson can only describe as _wolfish_.

Jackson takes the card reluctantly and puts it in his back pocket without looking at it. “Thanks,” he grumbles. He has zero desire to kowtow to some unknown alpha who now thinks Jackson is invading her territory and letting an omega run wild. Goddamn Isaac. Jackson had been doing just fine, over a month with no supernatural incidents, feeling almost like a regular law student.

Jackson reluctantly unpresses himself from Isaac’s side, although he keeps a firm grip on Isaac’s hand as he leads him back down the stairs and outside. He ignores Cody and everyone else, speeding up a little as he approaches where he’d parked his Audi, pulling out his keys to beep it unlocked.

Jackson opens the passenger door for Isaac, because his mother had raised him to be a gentleman. He’s not quite sure what etiquette would demand around an omega, but he’s pretty sure he should treat Isaac at least as well as he’d treated Lydia when they’d been dating.

“What happened to the Porsche?” Isaac asks when they’re both seated in the car, speaking for the first time since claiming Jackson was his packmate back at the club. “Thought I’d finally get to ride in it,” he says coquettishly.

Jackson winces. He still misses his beloved Porsche. “Sold it when my family moved to London. Thought I should get something a little less flashy for Palo Alto.” He’s idly considering getting a new _, better_ Porsche to drive Isaac around in before he realizes that’s not normal and turns to glare at the other man. “Are you pumping pheromones at me?” he accuses.

Isaac smirks and looks ahead instead of turning to Jackson. “Not on purpose. Why, what were you thinking about?” he asks, pseudo-innocently.

Isaac’s heartbeat and scent don’t give anything away he doesn’t want them to, Jackson realizes with a start. Werewolf lie detection skills aren’t much better than a polygraph, and Jackson isn’t much good at that skill anyway, that had always been Ethan’s department. He has no chance picking up on lies from an actor as accomplished as Isaac seems to be. “Where do you want me to drop you off?” he asks, ignoring Isaac’s question.

Isaac gives him an address in the shitty part of town and Jackson starts driving, while Isaac proceeds to play with everything he can find without asking, adjusting the seat for his long legs, cycling through every option on the seat warmer and the car heater, changing the satellite radio station every couple of minutes, flipping the visor mirror down to admire himself. Jackson grits his teeth and doesn’t say anything, he’s pretty sure Isaac is just trying to get a rise out of him for his own amusement.

The address Isaac had directed them to is even more run down than Jackson had expected. He looks up at the apartment building warily. “This it?”

“Home sweet home,” Isaac chirps.

Isaac turns and looks at Jackson appraisingly and suddenly everything about Isaac screams sex; Jackson wants him in a way he hasn’t wanted anyone since London, since Ethan, before Jackson had ruined that like he ruins everything.

Jackson blinks. He’s pretty sure Isaac is fucking with him, but then again, maybe Jackson wants to be fucked with, because “I’ll walk you upstairs,” comes out of his mouth. 

Isaac shrugs and gets out of the car, making Jackson rush a little to follow, beeping the car locked over his shoulder.

There’s no elevator and they walk up four flights of stairs in silence. Isaac looks a little uncertain as he unlocks unit 402, but he waves Jackson in anyway, flicking the lights on as he enters. Jackson looks around. Whoever said all omegas loved to cook and clean and keep house had clearly never met Isaac Lahey. The small studio apartment is mess, takeout containers and clothes and schoolbooks littering every surface. Jackson knows he’s a little obsessive about cleanliness, but he can’t help comparing it to his own spotless 2-bedroom in a doorman building uptown.

“Have a seat,” Isaac says, waving vaguely around. “Would you like a drink?”

“Sure,” Jackson says and Isaac steps into the small kitchenette, rummaging through the fridge while Jackson guiltily looks at the queen size bed (which is actually just a box spring and mattress on the floor) that’s the first piece of furniture you notice when you enter the studio. A little more searching thankfully reveals a small couch, mostly covered by Isaac’s clothes. Jackson shoves them into a semi-neat pile and manages to make enough room to sit on.

“I only have water,” Isaac announces, bringing over two glasses filled from the tap. “Sorry.”

Jackson refrains from saying he only drinks bottled water, preferably the sparkling kind, and accepts a glass.

Isaac sweeps Jackson’s clothes pile to the floor carelessly and takes a seat beside him on the couch, immediately curling up sideways with his legs half under him. “Cheers,” Isaac says, clinking his glass against Jackson’s and tilting his head up to drink the whole thing in one go. Jackson stares at the line of his working throat. He’s somewhat baffled as to how Isaac manages to make a display of himself drinking water, of all things, but it’s _working_ for him, the fearless challenge in his eyes even as he bares his vulnerable throat to Jackson. 

Isaac puts his empty glass on the floor and Jackson wordlessly gives him his full one, and Isaac empties that one too, as Jackson watches.

Isaac puts the second glass down and they stare at each other for a moment. Maybe omegas really are every pornographic fantasy you didn’t even know you had brought to life, because his former neighbor and his water-drinking prowess seem like everything Jackson’s ever wanted.

Isaac leans forward and kisses him, gently at first, then more aggressively. Jackson moans, leaning back against his side of the couch and pulling Isaac half atop him.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” Isaac says sweetly when he comes up for air. “You were perfect. That wolf was terrified. How can I repay you?” Isaac giggles, actual, honest-to-god giggles.

Jackson can almost hear the record scratch as the mood breaks for him. Isaac really is behaving like an omega out of a porno, and not a particularly good one. Jackson feels ill suddenly, he’d never thought of himself as one of _those guys_ , who think omegas owe him sex for the bare minimum of gentlemanly behavior. It hurts that Isaac thinks he is; Isaac is his packmate, Jackson would have helped him no matter what. 

“What?” Isaac asks, pouting.

Jackson pushes him back and stands up. “I should go,” he mutters. “I just came to walk you upstairs. You don’t need to _repay_ me anything.”

Isaac’s eyes flash gold with irritation, and Jackson feels absurdly pleased at perhaps drawing out some real reaction. “I don’t like owing anyone,” Isaac says sharply, apparently having given up on his porn persona for now. “That wolf wouldn’t have let me go if you hadn’t shown up. He’d have taken me back to his alpha like some trophy.”

“I’m not just anyone,” Jackson says firmly. “I’m your packmate. You said so yourself.”

Isaac looks incredulous. “Is that a joke? We were never pack. I haven’t seen you in over six years, and we barely knew each other before then. I wasn’t actually expecting you to show, just figured I’d make a Hail Mary pass since I knew you lived around here.”

_I knew you,_ Jackson wants to say. _I watched you from across the street, and wondered a million times if I should report your abusive dad, even though you lashed out and made vehement denials at anyone who asked about you or him, or if some adult would finally do something about him. When he was the first person I killed, I felt a righteousness that sealed my fate as a kanima._ It’s not exactly true, but the bits and pieces of memory Jackson has from his time as a weapon of other people’s vengeance suggest it might be, and it’s become his pet theory. It’s not like he’ll ever be able to prove it one way or another.

“I have a lot of regrets,” he says instead, low and serious and ashamed. “But one of the biggest is not helping you. When we were younger, before all… this. But we were bitten by the same alpha. And we’re the only two left from that group. I’d like to try and be pack now, if you’ll let me.”

Because that’s the real reason, isn’t it, that he’d gotten out of bed and rushed across town at 1 am. Not despite the fact that it was _Isaac Lahey_ that asked for a favor, but because of it. Because Jackson can apologize and make amends to most of the people he’d been an asshole to back in the day, and he’s mostly accepted that he’s not actually at fault for what he’d done as the kanima, but no amount of apologies and amends will ever make up for what he’d done, or really hadn’t done, for Isaac. Jackson hadn’t quite realized until just then how much that had been weighing on him, how much he wants, _needs_ to try making it up to Isaac anyway. How it feels like a mandatory first step to reforming his pack.

Isaac sighs and waves Jackson toward the door. “Just go home, Jackson,” he says bitterly. “I’ll let you know if I need a _packmate_ , but I’ve been doing just fine on my own all these years.”

Jackson nods and backs his way to the front door. “Text me anytime. For anything.”

“Whatever.”

“I mean it!”

Isaac gets up and beats him to the door, opening it for him pointedly. “Good _night_ , Jackson.”

The door slams in his face before he whispers “Goodnight” back, but he knows Isaac’s werewolf ears have to hear him. 


	2. maybe the waiter wants a blowjob

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson’s three weeks into his Isaac-tracking (it’s not stalking, because that would be creepy), catching up on reading for his Torts class in his car outside a nightclub, when his phone buzzes with a text from Isaac. It’s only a bit past 11 p.m. and Jackson had thought he had plenty of time to kill until Isaac would be ready to leave. _Slim pickings tonight,_ Jackson reads. _Come inside._

Jackson checks his phone constantly over the days that follow, waiting for Isaac to say something, anything. He types out messages to Isaac all the time, and deletes each one before sending it, ranging from “how’s your week going” to an extremely long and embarrassing apology for everything wrong he recalls having done to the other man.

Jackson had left his popular kid persona back in Beacon Hills and become much more of a loner in and since his time in London. Jackson is friendly enough with his law school classmates now, but doesn’t see them much outside of class, begging off participating in weekly “bar review” and similar drinking fests, werewolf senses always uncomfortable in such settings. Perhaps in an attempt to punish himself for breaking Ethan’s heart, Jackson hadn’t actually told any of the McCall Pack that he was back in California, although he’d assumed they’d figure it out eventually. Jackson’s aware that Ethan will probably kill him if he ever finds out Jackson had purportedly left him to rejoin his pack, but then hadn’t, instead choosing to skulk around Palo Alto by himself. Luckily, Ethan and Jackson aren’t currently on speaking terms and Ethan isn’t in touch with anyone else in the McCall Pack. Plus, Jackson figures, it isn’t like anyone in the pack is banging down his door begging him to bring his sunny disposition around.

Jackson can’t deny that he feels better just from physically being in California – knowing most of the pack is scattered around the state, that he can be available to them if they need him, soothes him on some level. He’s reluctant to admit being able to do a favor for Isaac has been his highlight of the time since he’s been back, but it has.

But Jackson is starting to despair of ever hearing from Isaac again. Isaac had made clear his disinterest in playing happy families with Jackson, but Jackson still longs to be asked for something, so he can prove his worth as a packmate and perhaps even one day earn the other’s forgiveness.

Jackson’s taken back up with the intense training regimen he’d kept up in London during the darkest of the hunter war days, not wanting to be caught off guard again if something comes up, if Isaac needs him. He’s always prided himself on his self-discipline, and it helps, pouring himself into something other than his legal studies. Jackson had long ago decided that he just wasn’t a likeable person. Sure, he has enough charm and good looks to fool people into liking him on a surface level if he really tries, but his true friendships have always been few and far between, and fewer and farther the older he gets. So he focuses on what he can control – training his werewolf skills until he surpassed Ethan and most of the London pack, his health and athleticism, success at school and jobs. Since he can’t make people like him, he tries to make himself perfect, indispensable.

But despite all the texts he doesn’t send, every day that passes seems to make clear that Isaac wanting help from Jackson was a one-time thing and it’s driving Jackson crazy. After the hardships from his early days as a lone wolf in London, Jackson can’t even imagine how difficult life for Isaac must be as a true omega, every wolf in every town eyeing him like some kind of sex buffet, easy pickings without a pack to protect him. He notices werewolves more and more around town now that he’s actively looking for it – dozens of them. They eye him more too, presumably because he’s been brought to the attention of their alpha, if they’re all part of Lily Hamamura’s pack. Jackson knows he should respect Isaac’s desire to be left alone, but the thought of something happening to Isaac, especially one of Hamamura’s betas attacking him, when Jackson lives in the same town is unbearable, so after about a week of no texts, he starts following Isaac around when he can.

Jackson has a hard time pinning down any real schedule for Isaac, but he seems to be taking classes at the local community college and apparently works multiple jobs waiting tables and bartending. Isaac seems to know people everywhere, at least based on his shameless flirting, but has no one in particular he spends time with. He has no car, taking the bus or occasionally bumming a ride off classmates or coworkers. He also goes out a _lot_ – he’s at a different nightclub almost every night of the week, usually in some barely-there mesh contraption. Isaac leaves quickly if he notices any werewolves about, Jackson notes thankfully, but otherwise only at 2 a.m. when the clubs close. Jackson doesn’t understand how any werewolf can stand to be in a nightclub that long, but he knows plenty willingly go, so he supposes that must be a Jackson thing rather than a werewolf thing. Although, he’d liked crowds and parties well enough prior to being bitten, perhaps he’d merely outgrown it.

Jackson burns with jealousy at the thought of Isaac hooking up with strangers in filthy club bathrooms, but knows he has no real claim to the omega. The sex drive part of the omega myth must at least be true, Jackson thinks bitterly.

Jackson’s three weeks into his Isaac-tracking (it’s not stalking, because that would be creepy), catching up on reading for his Torts class in his car outside a nightclub, when his phone buzzes with a text from Isaac. It’s only a bit past 11 p.m. and Jackson had thought he had plenty of time to kill until Isaac would be ready to leave. _Slim pickings tonight,_ Jackson reads. _Come inside._

He stares at the text in horror for several moments, before realizing what an idiot he’d been to think the other werewolf wouldn’t notice him eventually. He swallows hard and reluctantly leaves his car and walks up to the (thankfully human this time) bouncer, who boredly glances at his ID and waves him in.

It’s a Tuesday, and Isaac’s right, the club’s a sad scene, blasting overloud music on a half empty dance floor. Jackson spots Isaac quickly, dancing by himself with his eyes closed like he’s got not a care in the world, looking unattainably sexy, far too beautiful to be there. Some guy apparently doesn’t realize the unattainable part and attempts to start dancing with Isaac. Jackson quickly walks up and shoves him off, taking Isaac into his arms and ignoring the guy’s affronted sputtering. Isaac’s eyes open and he grins like a delighted predator, wrapping his own arms around Jackson’s neck and pressing their bodies together. Jackson’s abruptly reminded of a night in high school he’d almost forgotten, when no one, including himself, knew whether he had any supernatural powers and the Hale Pack had kidnapped him and poisoned him with kanima venom to see how he’d react. He’d been paralyzed, and Isaac, with the same predatory grin, had used his werewolf abilities to scare Jackson into agreeing to recant his statement to the sheriff that Isaac had gotten in a fight with his father, removing Isaac from suspicion of involvement in his father’s murder. Isaac’s no longer a physical threat to Jackson, but Jackson can already tell Isaac’s going to be able to hurt him in other ways, beginning with draping himself over Jackson as if he has any genuine interest in him.

“Hi,” Isaac purrs, sounding slightly out of breath. Jackson’s pretty sure it’s an affectation. “You came.” As if he hadn’t commanded Jackson to.

Jackson just nods.

“I’m glad,” Isaac says. “I was getting _so_ bored.”

Jackson is a bit at a loss as to how he’s going to entertain Isaac. He attempts to follow Isaac’s movements, swaying with him to the thumping bass, but he finds himself wishing there were werewolves to beat up, anything he’s actually good at.

Isaac laughs, a bit of a cruel edge to it. “Could you look any more uncomfortable? Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“I just got here,” Jackson protests feebly, but lets Isaac lead him out. He doesn’t think he lasted even one song, although the DJ’s mixing the tracks so it’s hard to tell where one ends and the next begins. 

Isaac seems to already know where Jackson has parked his Audi, walks right up and leans on its side like he owns it, waiting for Jackson to get the passenger-side door for him again. Jackson obliges and tosses his textbooks in the back to clear space for Isaac, before walking around to the driver side to get in as well and turn the engine on. Isaac moves to adjust the seat before apparently realizing Jackson’s left it untouched since Isaac had last been in it, instead stretching his legs out, leaning back and turning to smirk at Jackson.

Jackson determinedly does not blush, it’s not like he’d intentionally left it that way for Isaac, he just hasn’t had anyone else in his car since. “Where do you want me to take you?” he asks.

“Mmmm,” Isaac says. “Know any late-night diners? Nowhere I work, though,” he teases.

Jackson can’t hold the blush back this time. “Are you angry?” He starts driving toward a place he’s heard his classmates mention.

“I was annoyed at first,” Isaac says. “But you haven’t gotten in my way. And I think other werewolves leave me alone on nights you’re around.”

Jackson frowns. That hadn’t exactly been intentional, but he’s glad for it if so.

“Where are you the rest of the time?” Isaac asks curiously.

Jackson glowers. Did Isaac think Jackson had no life outside him at all? “I’m in law school at Stanford. And I train a lot,” he says gruffly.

“Fancy,” Isaac says. “You on the Stanford lacrosse team? You seemed good enough, even before you got the werewolf level up.”

Jackson blinks in surprise, uncomfortable at what seems like a disingenuous compliment. He remembers when lacrosse had seemed like the most important thing in the world, had been one of the main reasons he’d gotten himself mixed up with the likes of Derek Hale in the first place. “I don’t think grad students are allowed,” he says. “And I haven’t played in a long time.” Lacrosse feels like a lifetime ago.

Isaac raises an eyebrow. “What kind of training, then?”

Jackson shrugs, not comfortable admitting he’s invented an ever-evolving gym and outdoor routine designed to challenge and hone his werewolf and kanima skills. “Just training.”

“Well it’s working, whatever it is,” Isaac says. “You look good. Bigger than you used to. Broader.”

Jackson tries not to preen at praise from an attractive omega, especially when he’s mostly sure Isaac’s just telling him what he thinks Jackson wants to hear. “It’s not for looks,” he snaps, which is at least partially a lie, “but of course I do. You last saw me as high school sophomore.”

Isaac laughs, sounding almost warm. “It was a compliment, Jacks.” _Learn to take one_ , goes unsaid.

Jackson’s claws almost shoot out and ruin his leather-wrapped steering wheel. Danny was the only one who’d ever dared shorten his name that way, and only rarely. It _hurts_ , knowing this is all some kind of boredom-inspired power game to Isaac, pretending warmth and compliments and affectionate nicknames when they’ve never been any kind of friends and Isaac’s been ignoring Jackson for a month, three-quarters of which Jackson had spent following him around like some deranged puppy. Jackson isn’t sure why he’s doing any of this, chasing after some uninterested omega in some misguided attempt at making things up to him and reforming his pack. He finds himself desperately missing the easy friendships he’d had with Danny, with Lydia, with Ethan; but knows he’s the one who’d let all those relationships fall apart, and without finding anything to replace them with.

Isaac must notice how much he’s stiffened. “Jackson?” he asks, sounding so concerned Jackson almost believes him.

“You look even skinnier than in high school,” Jackson accuses. “Don’t you eat?”

Isaac just laughs. “I’m a broke student. I mostly live off ramen. Why’d you think I wanted to go to a diner on your dime? Besides, I don’t get any complaints about my body,” he brags.

Jackson feels immediately guilty, his anger fading. He doesn’t believe much that comes out of Isaac’s undoubtedly filthy mouth, but he remembers where Isaac lives, how he lives. Jackson’s adoptive parents, and the hefty insurance settlement he’d received on his eighteenth birthday for the accidental death of his birth parents, have ensured he’s never had to worry about money. “I didn’t offer to pay,” he says, instead of acknowledging Isaac’s underfed frame is still the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

“That’s fine,” Isaac says lightly. “Maybe the waiter wants a blowjob.”

Jackson’s head snaps to Isaac at that, and the car swerves a little. Isaac doesn’t react, just looks placidly ahead with a slight smile, face looking perfect in profile.

Jackson turns his gaze back to the road, knowing Isaac can hear his heart pounding. He wonders, with a sick feeling in his stomach, if Isaac really has exchanged blowjobs for food. Something tells him Isaac’s done worse for less. 

When they get to the near-empty diner, Jackson makes a point of seating them in the section where a tired-looking middle-aged woman is waiting tables, but the joke’s on him when her shift apparently ends at midnight and a dark-haired, bright-eyed young man, who seems annoyingly unaware of how good-looking he is, shows up to take their order instead.

Isaac’s clearly thrilled at the chance to taunt Jackson, going out of his way to ask the waiter endless questions about the menu like it’s not all shitty grease on a plate, praising him for being so helpful, and chatting him up about his major (marine biology because he loves dolphins, but he’s thinking of switching to kinesiology because he loves sports), his family (just his mom and little sister back in Illinois, and he misses them a lot) and everything else under the sun, making sure to casually brush against the waiter’s arm multiple times.

The waiter looks disbelievingly delighted at the attention, although he keeps shooting terrified glances at Jackson who pointedly does not participate in any conversation other than to order a house salad he’s not planning to eat. Isaac orders a bacon cheeseburger, meatloaf, fish and chips, blueberry pancakes, and a chocolate malt milkshake. Jackson hopes the leftovers will keep in Isaac’s fridge. Jackson is sure the waiter would love a blowjob from Isaac but also doubts he can afford to give away that large a meal. Jackson’s not sure whether to punish him for existing with no tip or shame him with an extra-large one.

Isaac makes a truly impressive dent in his food, pouting when Jackson just picks at his salad and refuses to try anything of Isaac’s. Isaac even goes so far as to try and hand-feed Jackson a fry, which Jackson slaps away irritably. Isaac quiets down as he gets full, just munching contentedly. Jackson mentally smacks down his inner wolf, which is overjoyed and smug at being such a good provider to such a beautiful omega.

The bill is lower than Jackson expects, and he feels guilty again. The waiter hasn’t written his phone number on the bill, Jackson makes sure to check front and back. He tips enough to double the bill, and slings a possessive arm around Isaac’s waist as he walks them out, gracing the waiter with a feral smile as they pass by him, doggy bag of leftovers in Isaac’s hand. The waiter stares at them in wide-eyed terror.

The drive back to Isaac’s apartment is quiet, with Isaac dozing a little. He yawns when they arrive. “Come up for a drink?” he asks.

“Water again?” Jackson asks, not unkindly. He knows it’s because he has a quiet, sleepy, full omega on his hands, but his mood has mellowed. Part of him wants to rail against his inner wolf and return to being suspicious and enraged but another part thinks it might not hurt to get out of his own way for once. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep.”

“Just for a bit,” Isaac says, pouting a little.

Jackson follows him upstairs. He likes the idea of spending time with Isaac like this, with his guard down a little, instead of sharp and unknowable and constantly laughing at Jackson in ways that only pretend to be fond, or abruptly switching from flirtatious to openly derisive.

Jackson whistles when Isaac lets him in to his apartment. “Did you get robbed? I can actually see the furniture.” It’s not up to his standards, of course, but the apartment now looks reasonably presentable.

“Shut up,” Isaac says, smacking him lightly on the arm. “I know how to clean; I just wasn’t expecting company last time.”

Jackson wonders if that means he was expecting company this time. Isaac seems to have regular sexual encounters based on how he always comes out of the clubs stinking of sex, but he’s never brought anyone home, at least that Jackson had seen in his few weeks of Isaac-tracking. Had Isaac planned to say hello to Jackson tonight, to bring him home? Had he cleaned to prove to Jackson that he could be a good omega? Jackson can feel his wolf getting over-excited at both ideas, his heart rate rising, and hates that Isaac can easily tell, while Jackson can still pick up hardly anything about Isaac.

Isaac politely does not comment on Jackson’s heart rate, just puts away his leftovers in the fridge and produces a bottle of 190 proof Everclear from the freezer, shaking it at Jackson in offering. “Strong enough to get a werewolf tipsy, if we add a pinch of wolfsbane and drink enough of it.”

Jackson waves him off. “It’s Tuesday and I’ve got Civ Pro in the morning.” He goes to sit on Isaac’s couch without being invited, which his mother would be horrified by, but he thinks is only fair since Isaac acts like he owns Jackson’s Audi. “Come sit with me,” he demands.

Isaac puts the Everclear away, and apparently takes “sit” to mean “cuddle” because he shamelessly rearranges Jackson so he’s half reclined sideways with his legs stretched out the length of the couch and promptly lays atop him, head on his chest so he can hear every minutiae of Jackson’s now-racing heartbeat, sighing happily when Jackson awkwardly brings an arm around Isaac to play with his hair. “S’nice,” Isaac mumbles sleepily, and Jackson gets bolder, moving his fingers more firmly through Isaac’s thick hair, tugging a little in a way that makes Isaac let out a happy little moan that goes straight to Jackson’s cock. 

Jackson’s kind of uncomfortable on the cramped couch but doesn’t want to move and ruin Isaac’s sleepy contentment. Isaac seems totally happy to be curled up despite his lanky frame. Jackson feels embarrassed that Isaac can hear his still-fast heartbeat, over-excited by a little cuddling like a middle schooler.

Isaac falls asleep within a few minutes, and Jackson looks longingly toward the perfectly good bed just a few feet away, but sighs and decides he’s just going to be uncomfortable, settling in to try and sleep himself.

***

Jackson wakes up with a crick in his neck and no omega atop him. He can hear the shower running, so presumably that’s where Isaac is. The apartment looks even dingier in the light of day. He checks the time and sighs, it’s much later than normal for him. He can still make it to class, but he won’t have time to work out.

The shower stops running and a towel-clad Isaac emerges from what’s presumably the bathroom, rubbing a second towel in his hair. “Oh, hey,” Isaac says casually. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep and lock you in place. You should have woken me up.”

Jackson tries not to stare at the water droplets making their way down Isaac’s bare chest. It doesn’t surprise him if Isaac doesn’t get complaints about his body as he’d bragged the night before – he’s slim, but still wiry and toned, no doubt aided by werewolf and omega biology working to keep him at the peak of health and attractiveness. “It’s not a problem,” Jackson says. He considers saying he’d liked having Isaac sleep on him but decides against it. He wonders if Isaac feels awkward, but the other man remains infuriatingly unknowable. Jackson’s certainly starting to feel awkward. He knows the cuddling is partly a wolf thing, and doing it without sex while wanting sex is making him doubly uncertain of whether he should act like a boyfriend, one-night stand or a packmate. “I should, um. Go to class.”

“Ok,” Isaac says lightly.

Jackson wonders if Isaac’s irritated to have Jackson still in his space, interrupting his morning routine. “Um,” he attempts. “Can I see you again?”

“Can I stop you?” Isaac asks dryly.

Jackson winces. “I could buy you dinner again,” he offers earnestly. He doesn’t want Isaac to ever go hungry when Jackson is around.

“You know from stalking me I wait tables at a restaurant, right?” Isaac asks. “They feed me. I’m not actually on the verge of starvation sucking dick for protein.”

Jackson stares at him. He supposes he had known that.

Isaac sighs. “Just wanted to make sure you knew. You had a weird look on your face.”

Jackson flushes. “I should go.”

Isaac gestures at the door impatiently, as if to say, _then go_.

Jackson practically runs out, and it isn’t till he gets to his car that it occurs to him that he should have snapped back that Isaac had been the one to casually tell him he mostly lived off ramen and then order four meals in one sitting, so it was pretty unfair that he then got snippy at Jackson for believing him and his stupid unchanging heartbeat and carefully-controlled pheromone scents.


	3. manipulative, lying little shits who cannot be trusted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _So, funny story_ , Isaac texts him, in the middle of day 11 post-cuddlegate, when Jackson’s home studying. _I actually did get robbed. Come over._

Jackson does not engage in Isaac-tracking the next several days, although it gets harder with every day that passes. He forces himself to replay his memories of Isaac pretending Jackson’s pack to get out of trouble with Sinqua and then sneering at his offer to actually be pack; ignoring Jackson for a month and then calling him “Jacks” like it was nothing; making Jackson believe he was barely getting by and then mocking his offers to provide for him; cuddling Jackson on an uncomfortable couch all night and then kicking him out without so much as a goodbye. Jackson’s the victim, he decides. He shouldn’t be chasing after anyone, let alone unreadable omegas, who are manipulative, lying little shits who cannot be trusted.

He needs to focus on school more anyway, with first quarter finals rapidly approaching. Jackson is determined to get top grades and an internship at a top law firm, without his lawyer dad calling in any favors. All the professors and counselors have drilled into their heads that 1L (i.e., first year) grades are the most important.

 _So, funny story_ , Isaac texts him, in the middle of day 11 post-cuddlegate, when Jackson’s home studying. _I actually did get robbed. Come over._

Jackson nearly has a heart attack. He is the worst person ever. How had he let Isaac push him away, when the omega so clearly needed him, his care and protection? Had Jackson learned nothing from their childhood experience? If only he’d been tracking Isaac like he was supposed to!

 _Are you hurt_ , he texts back, having to go back to fix the words several times with how clumsy his fingers have become.

 _I’m fine_ , he receives back. Then, a long moment later, _are you coming?_

Jackson doesn’t know Isaac that well, but Isaac’s never been anything but confident and demanding in their recent interactions, and Jackson is horrified at the thought that the omega _doubts_ him, would think for even a moment that Jackson wouldn’t show up for him in a moment of need. _I’m coming_ , he sends back _._

He’s lucky he doesn’t crash into anything or get pulled over with how he careens the Audi across town to Isaac’s apartment, hating every person out enjoying their Saturday afternoon and getting between him and his (?!) omega.

Jackson runs up four flights of stairs at top werewolf speed (and he definitely needs to add more running up stairs to his training regimen, based on how interminably long it takes him). The door to Isaac’s apartment is partially open, and Jackson shoves his way in, accidentally pushing too hard and splintering the door as it bangs against the wall and then partially falls off its hinges.

Isaac stares at him.

Jackson stares back.

Isaac is not, as Jackson had vaguely imagined, curled up in a corner of the floor crying with his knees pulled up to his chest. He’s standing, and the slightly smoky scent of fury rolls off him in waves, which is especially disconcerting after how little definitive emotion Jackson has been able to pick up off him on their previous encounters. Jackson’s vague plan to crush Isaac to his chest and never let him go again now seems monumentally foolish. Jackson registers that he’s sweaty, that he’s dressed in his “home” gym clothes that aren’t nice enough to wear to the actual gym, and that he’s just broken Isaac’s door for no reason.

Isaac starts pacing, looking every bit a caged wolf.

Jackson continues to stand in the doorway and looks around awkwardly. The apartment looks ransacked, although still better than the first time he’d been there. There’s a dusty outline visible on a stand where the TV used to be.

Isaac surprises him by breaking the silence, not pausing his pacing. “Sorry for being a bit of a dick last week. Thanks for coming anyway.”

Jackson wants to say it was eleven days ago, not last week, but he doesn’t think knowing the exact count works in his favor if he wants Isaac to think he has any kind of chill. “Of course I came.”

Isaac looks a little bit pitying, and Jackson flushes. Seeing how unhurt Isaac appears is making Jackson realize that nothing he’d known about Isaac up until the robbery text had changed, and Jackson’s wolf had maybe overreacted a little at a perceived threat to not-actually- _his_ omega.

“Sorry about your door.”

“You’re paying for it.”

“Sure.”

“How are you with tracking?”

Jackson blinks, confused. “What?”

“Can you pick up on anything? I’m not very good at it. But you and I are the only ones who have been in here. And the robbers. They took my laptop and TV and I’m not sure what else. I want my things back and I want them to pay. Can you help me?”

Jackson blinks several more times. It hadn’t occurred to him that Isaac would want to use werewolf skills to track down and confront human robbers like some crazed vigilante. Jackson _does_ want to help Isaac, by taking him back to the safety of Jackson’s warm, clean apartment with 24/7 security, and keeping him there for the rest of time. The last thing Jackson wants to do is let Isaac run around the worst parts of crime (and werewolf) ridden Palo Alto looking for trouble over some laptop. Werewolves are supernaturally strong, but Jackson knows from experience that they’re not invulnerable, even regular human weapons can hurt them, even kill them, if they hit in the right spot at close range.

Jackson makes a show of sniffing the air a few times, smells Isaac, and himself, and a mishmash of food and moldy old building and trash and sewage and various humans that are probably the too-close neighbors. He shakes his head to clear it. Tracking from a crowded place without a definitive object that belongs to the person in question is a long shot by any measure. Jackson’s exceptional at tracking, however, Ethan and their London pack had all been envious, so if anyone can do it, he can. But for the moment, Jackson still can’t think anything past _omega hurt_. “Sorry, um, can I hug you? My wolf’s having a bit of a hard time focusing.”

“…ok,” Isaac says, in a surprisingly small voice. Maybe Isaac’s performing again, but maybe Jackson hadn’t been so far off, when he’d imagined Isaac in a corner, sad and afraid.

Jackson carefully puts the door back in place. It more or less closes. He strides across the room and crushes Isaac to his chest. Isaac makes a small, choked-off sound but doesn’t try to get away, burying his face in Jackson’s muscular shoulder.

It feels good, feels right, Jackson decides. Isaac should always be in his arms.

“They were in my space,” Isaac mumbles into his shoulder piteously. “Invaded. Took my things.” Jackson’s shoulder feels suspiciously damp. Jackson rubs Isaac’s back.

“I don’t want you staying here anymore,” Jackson announces after a few moments. “Plus, the door’s broken. Why don’t I just buy you a new laptop?”

Isaac extricates himself from Jackson’s arms, scowling and rubbing at his eyes angrily. “I don’t want a new laptop. I want _my_ laptop, that I saved up for the parts for and built myself. And they’re weak, pathetic humans. They have no right.”

Jackson manfully doesn’t let himself whimper at his omega pulling away too soon. “It’s a large building with a lot of people living and passing through here,” he tries. “And even if we somehow manage to track the robbers down, we can’t beat up humans.”

“Maybe _you_ can’t,” Isaac says sulkily. “I have no issue beating up humans who violated my space and possessions.”

“Isaac,” Jackson tries again, but is cut off.

“You said we were pack,” Isaac says, his voice shaking with something between tears and rage. “If you don’t want to help me then stop wasting my time and leave, I don’t really care, but you said you’d do _anything_.”

Jackson winces. He’s pretty sure Isaac’s initial fury had been real, and probably his initial tears as well, but Jackson’s no longer sure if Isaac’s being genuine or this is another Oscar-worthy Isaac performance, designed to get Jackson to do exactly what the omega wants and nothing else. The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

Unfortunately, Isaac’s right that Jackson’s desperate to help Isaac, and manipulative or not, Jackson’s not passing up a chance to prove his worth.

But he can’t let Isaac’s mercurial moods run the show on this – it’s too risky. “If I help you with this, you have to follow my lead,” Jackson says seriously. “Humans can hurt us and we don’t know what we’re going into. On mission means following orders. Can you do that?”

“Kinky,” Isaac says, rolling his eyes. “I can be good.”

Jackson lets his eyes flash werewolf blue and growls low and long, anticipating Isaac’s omega will want to submit to his command.

Isaac’s eyes flash gold in response before lowering in submission and he whimpers a little.

“Promise me, omega,” Jackson says sternly. “Nothing I don’t say.”

“Fine,” Isaac says unhappily. “I promise.”

“Can you keep a secret?” Jackson asks.

Isaac blinks in surprise for a moment, before smirking. “I’m nothing but secrets.”

“Don’t I know it,” Jackson says dryly. “I mean it though, I don’t want anyone to know.”

“Cross my heart,” Isaac says, holding a hand over his chest.

Jackson quickly strips naked, ignoring Isaac’s mocking whistle, before he concentrates and shifts into his full wolf form, a large golden-brown beast with bright blue eyes. He wags his tail at Isaac proudly.

Isaac’s mouth drops open. “Fuck you for having full shift abilities,” he mutters. He sits on the floor and pulls wolf Jackson into his lap, cuddling him like an extremely oversized puppy. “Who’s a good boy?” he asks, kissing the top of wolf Jackson’s head. “And so handsome!” he praises.

Wolf Jackson finds this rather undignified, but he allows Isaac to cuddle him for a few moments, before yelping and wriggling out of Isaac’s arms. He sniffs around the apartment again, his sense of smell most heightened in this form, focusing on the area around the TV stand since he knows the robbers had stood there. Isaac waits patiently, eyes glowing gold as he watches with interest as wolf Jackson sniffs around. It takes several minutes but Jackson eventually decides he’s isolated the scents of two young male humans who aren’t Isaac and Jackson. He barks excitedly.

Isaac grins at him. “You catch Timmy’s scent, boy?”

Jackson barks affirmatively, although he’s going to smack Isaac upside the head later for comparing him to Lassie.

Isaac claps his hands together twice. “Lead the way, handsome.”

Jackson yips and jerks his head toward his discarded clothes. Isaac empties out a backpack onto the floor and folds Jackson’s clothes with surprising care before packing them into the backpack with Jackson’s shoes and slinging the backpack over his shoulder.

Jackson barks at the apartment door and Isaac opens it for him, and Jackson bounds out excitedly, sniffing closely at the floor, the walls, and every other surface he finds. His human self is a little grossed out at the thought of everything that’s been on those surfaces, which his wolf self can smell every detail of (so far there’s definitely traces of vomit, pee, semen and blood in the hallway), but luckily it’s much easier to push back his human self in this form. Within a couple of minutes, he’s picked up on the two unknown human scents from Isaac’s apartment, heading toward the staircase. Human Jackson is a bit irritated at wolf Jackson for wasting time on that lack of revelation - of course the scents head into the staircase, how else would the robbers have left? But being in this form also means being more patient and letting the wolf do his thing, even if he’s not as sharp as human Jackson would be.

It’s a little harder to pick up the scents again at the bottom of the staircase, but he tracks them to a side door. Isaac opens it to reveal a parking garage. Jackson hopes the robbers hadn’t had a car, or he’s almost definitely going to lose the trail unless there’s something distinctive about the car scent.

But the robbers had apparently just cut through the garage on foot. He’s mildly impressed at the balls on these robbers to just walk out of Isaac’s building, presumably with a 40” TV under one arm.

Unfortunately, the scent abruptly cuts off once Jackson follows it out of the garage. Fuck. The robbers must have had a car after all. Jackson sniffs around the sidewalk and street for several minutes, and he can feel Isaac getting silently restless, but finally decides he has picked up a distinctive enough scent of rubber, rust and cheap gasoline that he might be able to follow for a while. He barks at Isaac to follow.

“What is it?” Isaac asks. “Did they get in a car? Should we get your car? Wait, does that mean I get to drive?!”

Jackson bares his teeth and growls a little, which he hopes communicates a very firm no.

Isaac pouts. “Fine,” he says sulkily. “But what are we going to do if they drove too far to walk?”

Jackson nips at Isaac’s ankles, headbutting the backs of his legs to move him in the direction of the street. Isaac moves as encouraged, grumbling, “I know I’m a werewolf and all, but not all of us do mysterious training to where we can just go miles on end…”

Jackson barks at him disapprovingly and bounds ahead after the car scent, making Isaac jog to keep up, partly as punishment for whining and partly because his wolf is too excited out sniffing the world to move slow.

“Hey!” some old man shouts at Isaac. “That thing needs to be on a leash! Is that even a dog?”

Isaac just grins and waves as he jogs past, throwing out an insincere, “Sorry! Husky!” over his shoulder.

Jackson tosses his head in annoyance. He’s no husky.

The moon is smiling upon Jackson today. Although based on Isaac’s complaints (mostly centered around perceived distrust in Isaac’s ability to drive his Audi) one would think they’d had to run an entire marathon, the trail leads him about four miles, and they make it in just under a half hour. Jackson stops outside a small, run-down house in what appears to be a residential neighborhood, sniffing around excitedly. He picks up the scents of the two humans again instantly – they seem to spend a lot of time here, wherever here is. Jackson spies a rusty old Ford on the unpaved driveway that makes Stiles’ old jeep look nice. A deep inhale suggests it’s the car he’s been chasing.

When Isaac realizes Jackson’s stopped, Isaac bends and puts his hands on his knees to catch his breath, panting.

Jackson finds a bush he can kind of hide behind, and changes back to human form, hissing at Isaac for the backpack, which Isaac tosses to him.

“You’re not even winded,” Isaac accuses, when Jackson reemerges fully dressed. “How is that fair?”

Jackson smiles beatifically. “I can help you train, if you want. Work on your stamina.” He can’t help getting closer and nipping at Isaac’s neck playfully, his wolf still close to the surface. His full wolf form isn’t always a happy and playful creature, but it’s been a while since Jackson had let him out, and a relatively low-stakes tracking exercise, combined with the presence of Isaac, who his wolf definitely wants to play with, seems to have brought out wolf Jackson’s lighter side. 

Jackson stumbles back abruptly, feeling uncomfortable at his own openness. In London, once he’d figured out he had the rare full shift ability and mastered it, Jackson had sometimes spent weeks at a time in wolf form to block out his more complex human thoughts and emotions, before Ethan had gotten worried and made him promise to not do it longer than a few hours at a time.

Isaac scowls at him and rubs at his neck, although it’s evident he’s trying to hide a smile. “My _stamina_ is just fine, thank you very much.” He pauses, and looks around. “Do you think they’re here? How many do you think there are?”

Jackson nods. “Two. It smells like they probably live here. And that’s the car I’ve been tracking.”

Isaac’s eyes widen. “Are you serious? That’s amazing. Let’s go!”

“Whoa,” Jackson says, grabbing Isaac’s shoulder to stop him before he can head toward the house’s front door. “We can’t just go in there without a plan. And you promised to follow my lead.”

Isaac scowls at him before waving toward the house. “Well then, _lead_.”

Jackson considers. “Let’s see if we can tell anything through the window,” he suggests.

He feels ridiculous trying to be surreptitious in any way in broad daylight, but knows he won’t be able to convince Isaac to leave without at least conducting some reconnaissance.

They walk up to the corner of the house, keeping out of the line of sight of the slightly open front window, and Jackson leans against the wall, trying to look casual. He’s glad for once he’s not decked out in his usual expensive designer wear, which would stick out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood. Isaac mirrors him a moment later, and they listen. They can hear what sounds like two teenaged boys inside, shouting excitedly over each other as they play some first-person shooter game. Jackson takes a deep inhale and knows they are the ones he’s been tracking.

“It’s them!” Isaac whispers excitedly. “I recognize the scent too now.”

Jackson risks a worried glance through the window, and his heart sinks. They _are_ teenagers – young ones. He guesses sixteen for one, maybe fourteen for the other. Great, so now Jackson’s a twenty-three-year-old, highly-skilled werewolf using his supernatural powers to track human teens (albeit thieving ones) to their own homes to bully them into doing his bidding. If there’s one thing he’s sworn to himself, it’s to always be better than Derek Hale, and this feels like failing miserably at that.

“That’s my TV they’re playing on!” Isaac whispers, annoyed. Jackson smacks him away from the window to be back out of the line of the sight from inside.

“They’re just kids!” Jackson whispers back urgently.

“Yeah, so?” Isaac whisper demands, but he does look uncomfortable.

Jackson sighs. He listens attentively and only catches the two heartbeats. “You hear anyone else than the two of them?”

Isaac listens as well, and then shakes his head.

It’s not Jackson’s best plan, but maybe they can just ring the doorbell and demand Isaac’s things back before the kids’ parents get home, and they’ll be so scared at being caught at their own home they just comply.

He walks up to the door and rings the doorbell before he can change his mind, Isaac hurrying after him.

He hears a fair amount of shouting and shoving before the door opens. Had he and Danny ever been that obnoxious? The younger teen eyes him dubiously, the older one hovering behind him. Their similar scents and appearances suggest they’re brothers. “We’re not buying anything,” the younger says dismissively, and attempts to close the door again, but Isaac shoves his foot in the way and uses one arm to force the door back open. Both teens’ eyes widen a little at the sight of Isaac, apparently recognizing him.

“Yeah,” says Jackson. “That’s my friend who you just stole from. But it’s your lucky day – give his stuff back, and we don’t call the cops. Don’t even need to tell your parents.”

“Ain’t got no parents,” the younger teen says (heartbeat ringing true), at the same time that the older teen says, “we didn’t steal shit!” (heartbeat ringing patently false).

Jackson just raises an eyebrow and tries to channel his father’s best “I’m not angry, just disappointed _”_ expression at the blatant lie.

The older teen shoves his brother behind him. “I _said_ , we didn’t steal shit. This is private property, now leave.”

Isaac snorts, still blocking the doorway. “We can literally see you playing games on my TV from your front window. Now my friend here is being very generous, I suggest you comply before he gets angry. You wouldn’t like him when he’s angry.”

“We’re not scared of some wannabe-Hulk preppy Stanford douche,” the younger teen pipes up from behind his brother.

Jackson sputters. He isn’t even dressed preppy today! Does he just have Stanford douche written all over him? And what even is a Hulk?

Isaac rolls his eyes. “This is taking too long,” he mutters, and before Jackson realizes what’s happening, Isaac reaches out and digs his claws into Jackson’s upper arm, drawing blood and making Jackson growl in warning and his eyes glow werewolf blue. Jackson gasps, wrenches his arm out of Isaac’s grip and uses it to smack Isaac upside the head, but it’s too late.

The younger teen’s eyes are spread impossibly wide in terror. Great, now Jackson’s given a child nightmare fuel. Jackson knows it’s more than just the strange glowing eyes scaring the kid – when a werewolf is in front of someone displaying itself, even when not all of its werewolf attributes are visible, the pheromones indicating aggression and danger can be picked up on even by a human.

The older teen’s eyes, however, are narrowed. He takes a step forward, attempting to shove Isaac out of the door. Isaac doesn’t move an inch, and he flashes his own werewolf gold eyes at the teens.

“You’re like my cousin,” the older teen says fiercely, glare alternating between both Jackson and Isaac, “and I’m still not afraid of you. You mess with us, you mess with him. He’s got a whole gang!” His heartbeat rings true, other than the part about not being afraid, which is mostly bravado.

 _Fuck_. The teen must mean Lily Hamamura’s pack, which Jackson had been determinedly trying not to make an enemy of. Jackson considers just giving up, but there’s no guarantee the teens won’t tell their apparent werewolf cousin about their strange visitors anyway.

Jackson holds his arms up to show no threat. “I’m not trying to mess with you. I just want my friend’s things back. Does your cousin approve of you stealing?”

Older teen finally looks a little scared. Apparently, this cousin is more of a threat than Jackson could hope to be. “Go get the TV,” he orders his brother, who obeys mutely, clearly still terrified. 

“Don’t forget my laptop,” Isaac calls sweetly. “And anything else you nicked!”

Jackson finds his phone, which had luckily remained in place in the pocket of his sweats, and pulls it out to call an Uber back to Isaac’s apartment, as Isaac stares at him in disbelief. “An Uber, really?”

“Do you prefer Lyft?” Jackson asks mildly. “I didn’t want to listen to you bitch about a four mile jog for another hour while we have stuff to carry.”

“It was at least six miles!” Isaac protests.

The teens produce and hand both the TV and laptop over, eyeing Jackson and Isaac dubiously. “We didn’t take anything else,” the older one grunts, heartbeat ringing true. “Wasn’t shit in that apartment.”

“Thanks,” Jackson says, and then decides he should offer some friendly mentorship to make up for scaring at least the younger one. “Don’t do this again, it’s not worth it. And, uh, stay in school.”

Isaac claps a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter and Jackson smacks him upside the head again. His omega had decidedly _not_ followed his lead, and Jackson is very much not happy about it.

The teens look beyond incredulous. Jackson spies the Uber coming down the street. “Also,” he says seriously, “don’t try and follow in the footsteps of this cousin and us. It’s _definitely_ not worth it. Trust me.”

Isaac sobers at that. “He’s right on that,” he adds darkly, then scowls. “Also, if you’re going to steal, why’d you have to do it from the shittiest apartment building in town?! You couldn’t find any preppy Stanford douches to rob?”

The teens have the grace to look ashamed at that. “Your shitty apartment building has shitty security,” the older one admits.

“No more stealing from _anyone_ ,” Jackson says sternly, before waving at the Uber to stop in front of the house. He turns to glare at the teens. “I’ll know if you do,” he adds, letting his eyes flash werewolf blue once more since the cat is out of the bag anyway. Let them think his supernatural powers include the ability and time to telepathically surveil two random teenagers. They look appropriately cowed.

Jackson and Isaac pile into the Uber, where Isaac smoothly tells the driver how excited he is to have found an almost new TV at a good price on Craigslist.


	4. you and me against the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m threatened by them,” he tries, murmuring into Isaac’s ear. “I’d feel so much better if you were where I knew you were safe. Don’t you want to be a good omega for me?”
> 
> Isaac shivers.

Once dropped off outside Isaac’s apartment building, Jackson’s awkwardly readjusting Isaac’s 40” flatscreen under one arm (and wondering again how two teens had managed to waltz out with it so easily) and eyeing Isaac, who’s clutching his laptop to his chest like it might be snatched away at any moment. “So,” Jackson says, “you’re going to come stay with me, right? I have a spare room. Shall we put this in my car?”

Isaac rolls his eyes. “No way, Jackson. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for you helping me and all, but I’m not moving in with you on, like, day two of us being maybe friends.”

Jackson’s eyes flash werewolf blue in annoyance, and then his annoyance increases further at the realization that as usual, being around Isaac is making him lose his carefully self-taught control over his supernatural attributes. “We’re not friends, we’re pack. We don’t need to follow human rules.”

Isaac blanches a little, and Jackson knows that was the wrong thing to say. “Do you honestly feel safe in that apartment?” he demands, trying to change tack. “And the door’s broken.”

“Because you broke it!” Isaac cries. “I’ll be fine.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “I’m a werewolf, humans aren’t a threat.”

Jackson shifts the TV to under his other arm, before giving up and placing it on the sidewalk. He moves closer and wraps his arms around Isaac, laptop and all. He feels him relax a little. “I’m threatened by them,” he tries, murmuring into Isaac’s ear. “I’d feel so much better if you were where I knew you were safe. Don’t you want to be a good omega for me?”

Isaac shivers. Jackson briefly thinks he’s won the argument, but Isaac pulls away, eyes shuttered. “Let’s go upstairs,” Isaac says.

Jackson sighs and picks the TV back up and follows Isaac back up to the fourth floor, raising an eyebrow at Isaac when he notices that the lock of Isaac’s shut door is decidedly broken on the front side that Jackson had not banged into a wall. 

“You still broke it worse,” Isaac accuses. Once they’re inside and the door placed back into place, he triumphantly places his laptop carefully on a side table, and takes the TV from Jackson to place it back exactly over its dusty outline on the TV stand, sighing with satisfaction. “Sit,” he commands, pointing at the couch. 

Jackson takes a seat on the couch, and scowls when Isaac sits on his bed, scooting back against the wall and hugging a pillow to his chest, pulling his knees up self-protectively. The idea the omega might need protection from _him_ is making Jackson’s wolf bristle.

Isaac scowls back. “Can you stop that?”

“Stop what?”

“You have pheromones too, you know. And you’re always _projecting_ them at me. I don’t feel like playing obedient omega and crawling in your lap right now.”

Jackson blinks. “I didn’t even realize I was doing it.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to see that,” Isaac grumbles. “Isn’t Stanford supposed to be for smart kids?”

Jackson closes his eyes and takes a couple of deep breaths, tries to suppress everything wolf about himself and just be human. “It’s for privileged kids who can’t ever stop trying to get gold stars, mostly,” he says, opening his eyes. “Is that better?”

Isaac nods stiffly. “A little. Your pheromones aren’t as strong as mine, but omegas pick up on them more.”

They sit in silence for a few moments, Jackson feeling ashamed and guilty, before Isaac begins to speak.

“Maybe I haven’t had the best time, as an omega on my own, with every werewolf I meet thinking I’m some sub-human sex pet meant to just do what I’m told.”

Jackson nods somberly, looking at the floor. The thought had occurred to him.

“And yeah, I asked you for help, that first night at the club, and I do appreciate your trying to help me, but you’re coming on way strong, Jackson. I don’t think you’d intentionally hurt me, but I don’t need yet another werewolf who thinks he owns me within a minute of meeting me because of my biology.”

Jackson nods again miserably.

Isaac sighs. “Ok, I give up,” he says, tossing the pillow aside and stretching out his legs. “Come here, I can’t stand how much you’re beating yourself up.”

Jackson looks up at him hopefully. “Are you sure? I didn’t mean to… project at you.”

“Occupational hazard,” Isaac says lightly. “And we feel the need to save idiots like you from themselves.”

Jackson basically throws himself on the bed, hiding his face in Isaac’s chest and letting Isaac cuddle him. 

Jackson pulls away after several long moments. “Tell me more?” he asks. “I’ve never actually met an omega before you. I know the sex drive part is true.” He smirks.

Isaac smacks him lightly on the arm. “Yeah. On my terms.”

“And sometimes transactionally?” Jackson asks uncomfortably.

Isaac shrugs. “On my terms, like I said.” He hesitates. “Does that bother you?”

Jackson considers. “It bothers me that you felt you had to.”

“It can be an easy way to get what I want,” Isaac says. “I guess I wouldn’t do it in an ideal world. People can be… icky.”

Jackson can easily guess Isaac is understating the “ickiness” he’s been subject to. “Would you, um, ever consider being exclusive with someone?”

“With you, you mean?” Isaac asks with a smirk.

Jackson shrugs. “Or someone,” he repeats stubbornly.

“I’ve never really done that. I don’t think I’d do that with a human, and it doesn’t really work that way in packs. For omegas. It’s part of why I haven’t rejoined one.” 

Jackson’s eyes widen, and he knows he’s projecting _rage_ and _must kill_ for whatever pack (or packs, as in multiple?!) had treated Isaac like some kind of collective sex toy to be passed around.

Isaac runs a comforting hand over Jackson’s shoulder and back, which is absurd, when Isaac’s the one who should be comforted.

“We don’t need anyone else,” Jackson says hotly, and when had his canines extended and he gone into half-shift? “In _our_ pack, it’d just be you and me.”

“You and me against the world,” Isaac murmurs, as if it’s just a pleasant fantasy. 

Does he not understand how serious Jackson is about this? Jackson’s strong enough to protect Isaac on his own, he knows it. Fuck all those old wolves’ tales about how a pack needs to be at least an alpha and three betas to be strong and stable enough to protect itself. Those packs didn’t have Jackson Whittemore in them. Jackson growls.

“You’re not an alpha,” Isaac says gently.

Jackson’s still in half-shift, his eyes glowing werewolf blue, marking him as a killer. “Do you want me to kill one and become one?” he demands. “I can do it. I have enough practice killing.”

“I know you can,” Isaac continues in the same gentle tone. He picks back up with stroking Jackson’s shoulder and back. “But no, I don’t want you to. And more importantly, you don’t want to either.”

Jackson doesn’t answer, not wanting to admit Isaac has a point, just lets himself be petted, and slowly feels himself shift back to human.

“I’ll come stay in your spare room for a little bit,” Isaac says. “If we can establish a few things first.”

Jackson sits up in surprise, not having expected this win. “Anything,” he says immediately.

Isaac grimaces. “For one thing, you need to stop doing that.”

Jackson blinks. “Doing what?”

“Being so affected by the omega thing. Capitulating on everything you think I want.”

Jackson flushes. “You really think I do that?”

“Yeah. And then you get sulky at me after, like I forced you.”

Jackson hangs his head in shame, realizing that’s true, and in retrospect, not very fair. “I’ll try and be better. You are kind of irresistible, though.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Isaac says. He takes a deep breath. “Mostly, I need to know what your rules are.”

Jackson looks up in surprise. “Is the submissive thing real?” he asks disbelievingly. “I thought for sure that’s just in porn. You don’t seem like that at all.”

Isaac bites his lip. “That’s not what I meant. I guess I’d like to be taken care of if I really trusted someone. But mostly I’ve had my trust betrayed a lot and needed to take care of myself, so I don’t know if I can do that now.”

Jackson takes this in. He’s in _so_ far over his head. “What did you mean, then?”

“It’s really important to me to know what the rules are so I don’t break them and get in trouble.”

“Get in trouble?” Jackson asks helplessly. “With _me_?”

“Yeah. You’re a werewolf, you’re stronger than me, and you’re asking me to live in your home. And you’re kind of always two seconds from having a rage explosion.” Isaac pauses. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

“I don’t think I’m capable of hurting you,” Jackson says quickly. “It just. Makes me sick to even think about.”

Isaac shakes his head. “I believe that you believe that.” He reaches out a hand and places it over Jackson’s heartbeat for a moment. They listen to Jackson’s steady heartbeat together. “And I can hear it. But it’s not about you.”

Jackson racks his brain for roommate rules. “Um. I guess, keep the place clean?”

Isaac snarls, looking extremely offended. “Excuse me? I’m not your maid!”

Jackson blinks. “I have a cleaning service that comes every two weeks. I just meant pick up after yourself in the meantime.”

Isaac sniffs. “Sorry,” he says grumpily. “One of those omega assumptions.”

“So that one’s fake?”

Isaac crosses his arms, annoyed. “Scrubbing pats and pans and bathrooms is not my idea of a good time. Is it yours?”

Jackson shrugs. “I guess not, but I don’t hate it. It’s really satisfying when I know everything’s super clean. And kind of bothers me when it’s not.”

Isaac nods, still looking unhappy. “Well, that’s a good start. What else?”

Jackson tries to think about other potential roommate issues. The only roommate he’s had is Ethan. “Text me if you finish something so I can buy more?”

“Ok,” Isaac says, and looks at him expectantly for more.

“Um. I have finals starting week after next. And I kind of think I’m going to fail all of them because I’ve been obsessing about you. Not that that’s your fault,” he adds quickly at Isaac’s glare. “But maybe keep the noise levels down for the next few weeks so I can focus?”

“Few weeks?” Isaac says incredulously. “How long do you think I’m staying? I was thinking like a couple of days, till my landlord can get the door fixed.” 

Jackson fights back an eye twitch. “Three weeks,” he counters. “After my finals, I’ll help you find a new place, if you want. I was serious about not wanting you to stay here anymore.”

Isaac crosses his arms over his chest. “No. And I can’t afford to live anywhere else.”

“Three weeks,” Jackson repeats immediately, ignoring Isaac’s cost complaints. An idea strikes him. “You promised to obey me, earlier. It was a strict condition to my helping you track the kids, and you broke your promise. So you owe me.”

Isaac looks reluctantly close to admitting Jackson might have a point. “I owe you, and your response is to force me to live with you for three weeks, in your undoubtedly fancy-ass apartment?”

“Yup,” Jackson says smugly. “And you thought you were living with me for a couple days, and you still wanted a whole set of rules. So we’re both fucked up.”

Isaac glares and ignores him.

“It’ll be good for my mental health, knowing where you are,” Jackson adds. “You don’t want me to fail my exams, do you?”

Isaac scowls. “You’re not going to know where I am all the time. And you’re not allowed to stalk me anymore. Especially if you care so much about these exams,” he accuses, poking Jackson in the chest.

“I want to know where you are,” Jackson says, grinning at Isaac’s apparent concession. “Can that be one of the rules?”

“No,” Isaac says seriously.

“Not like, every moment of every day. Just like, your general schedule? You know, like we’re friendly roommates.” He had definitely kept close tabs on where Ethan was. It had only made sense, it had always seemed like there were dangers afoot in London. Although in retrospect, Ethan had gotten irritated at him on more than one occasion for being too overbearing about it. “It’s not because you’re an omega,” he adds in case that’ll help. “It’s just a me thing.”

“But I _am_ an omega,” Isaac sneers. “And I’ve lived that life. I don’t like people forcing control on me.”

Jackson’s face falls. He knows he’s a bit of a control freak, but he hadn’t wanted to make Isaac uncomfortable.

“I don’t think that can be a rule, but I’ll try and let you know,” Isaac concedes.

Jackson grins again. “That’s all I got. You got any for me?”

Isaac blinks at him, apparently not having considered that he too could have rules. “Stay out of my room?” he tries tentatively.

“Yeah, of course,” Jackson says easily.

Isaac looks relieved. “I’ll stay out of yours too.”

“You don’t need to,” Jackson says. He entertains a brief fantasy of Isaac missing him when he’s gone and wrapping himself in the covers of Jackson’s bed, surrounding himself with Jackson’s scent.

“What about friends?” Isaac asks, even more tentatively.

Jackson stiffens. He knows Isaac doesn’t have _friends_. “You can see whoever you want,” he forces out tightly. He knows he must be broadcasting to Isaac just how little he likes that idea. “Just not at the apartment.”

“Ok,” Isaac says.

“And no werewolves, anywhere,” Jackson adds quickly. 

Isaac gives him a small smile. “You don’t need to worry about that, I avoid them at all costs.”

Jackson has noticed that. He seems to be the only exception. A thought occurs to him. “What happened that first night, then, when that wolf caught you? Sinqua?”

Isaac breathes heavily. “I wasn’t having a good night,” he says simply.

Jackson just looks at him, waiting for him to continue.

Isaac sighs. “I made some bad decisions, not leaving that place as soon as I sensed werewolves there. I think their pack owns it. Sinqua saved me, honestly, a bunch of his betas had me surrounded on the dance floor. I probably would have ended up in a gang bang, but he pulled me out and dragged me up to the manager’s office and asked if I had anyone to call.” Isaac smiles. “I lied and said I did and by some miracle, you actually showed up.”

Jackson smiles back shyly. “I had every intention of telling you to fuck off,” he confesses. “But then I just… couldn’t.”

Isaac reaches out and clasps his hand, intertwining their fingers. Jackson squeezes a little.

They enjoy a moment of companionable silence, before Jackson blurts out, “Can I ask you something dumb?”

“Isn’t that all your questions?”

“Very funny. There were those dots on the text screen, like you were going to say something else, that night. Do you remember what it was?”

“Oh,” Isaac says, looking uncomfortable. “I wasn’t sure if you knew I was an omega, so I was thinking of saying I was. I thought it might make you more amenable to coming. But then I thought, if that was going to be the main reason, maybe it was best you didn’t come. So I didn’t send it.”

“Huh,” Jackson says, considering. He probably would have decided sooner to go, propelled by curiosity and desire to be a gentleman. He decides he’s glad Isaac hadn’t told him. “I didn’t know, not until Sinqua pointed it out.”

They exchange another smile. “Ready to come home with me?” Jackson asks.

“No, wait,” Isaac says nervously. “What happens if I break the rules?”

Jackson is at a loss. “Nothing? I don’t know, Isaac. Just try and follow them?”

Isaac bites his lip. “I don’t know if that works.” When Jackson stays silent, he adds, a little angrily, “You know why I’m asking. You know about my dad. And Derek. And I’ve had more volatile alphas since then.”

Jackson scowls. “I’m not going to beat the shit out of you like your dad, that’s for sure. What did Derek do? And the others?”

Isaac shrugs. “Derek was the least bad, honestly. He broke my arm once, for sassing him when we were training. He kicked me out of his loft with no notice when I was staying with him, I had to take refuge at Scott’s, when Scott and I were barely even friends yet. Threw a glass at my head once, just like my dad did. To be fair, Derek was going through a lot.”

Jackson’s kind of always hated Derek, and he lets what little good will he had felt toward the man evaporate, luxuriates in sitting in his rage for a moment. “Maybe he can be the alpha I kill,” he suggests, only half-joking.

“He’s not an alpha anymore,” Isaac says. “He gave up his alpha spark to save his sister, Cora. Must really have loved her.” His voice is trying to be light, but Jackson can hear the bitterness and misery in his tone.

Jackson feels his hatred for Derek grow stronger. Derek hadn’t exactly been nice to Jackson – he’d basically terrorized him before he’d given him the bite and immediately given up on him when he’d initially become a kanima instead of a werewolf. The only good thing he’d done, as far as Jackson was concerned, was trying to kill Jackson to stop him from killing more people, which he hadn’t done out of any interest in Jackson himself. But Jackson hadn’t ever expected anything of Derek.

But _Isaac._ Isaac must have been desperate to love someone, be loved, after the childhood he’d had. How completely devastating – to have his hopes raised by being pulled out of his abusive home with the promise of supernatural powers and a pack to be a part of; then dashed when his new caretaker seemed capable of only more brutality; then it all thrown in his face when it turned out Derek could love after all, just not Isaac, not enough.

Isaac yelps, and Jackson realizes he’s squeezing Isaac’s hand too hard. Jackson lets go and breathes heavily. “Well, I’m not breaking your arms or throwing glasses at you either, sorry. Can we just deal with it at the time? You broke a rule earlier, and we came up with something.” He smiles winningly. It doesn’t escape his notice that Isaac had avoided answering about his other alphas, but Jackson figures Isaac will tell him when he’s ready.

“Forcing me to live in your nice apartment is not a good punishment, Jackson.”

Jackson makes a non-committal sound. “I got something I wanted, that you didn’t initially want to agree to. Sounds like a win to me.”

Isaac rolls his eyes. “Ok. I’m going to regret this later but… I’m ready to go home with you.”

Jackson grins.


	5. do you want me and my Doritos to leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yup,” Jackson says tightly. “I have food issues, Ethan told me so all the time.” He kicks himself mentally, he hadn’t meant to mention his ex a minute after he’d had his tongue down Isaac’s throat. It vaguely occurs to him he hasn’t uttered Ethan’s name out loud since leaving London. There’s only one item left in the grocery bags now. “Got you some Doritos, though.” He throws the bag at Isaac with a little too much force, but the other werewolf catches it against his chest. Jackson winces at the sound of chips smashing.

Isaac produces a beat-up suitcase and the same backpack from earlier and impresses Jackson with his speed and decisiveness in packing. Jackson wonders how often he makes hasty exits. Isaac insists on taking the TV as one of his few higher-value possessions, despite Jackson’s protests that he already has one in his living room as well as one in his guestroom. Jackson supposes he understands the reluctance to leave it in a broken-doored apartment after going to such effort to obtain it back. Isaac also seems convinced he’s leaving Jackson’s apartment and will need his TV and furniture again in a couple weeks, which belief Jackson is content to allow for now, but he has every intent of using his time to convince Isaac to stay indefinitely. 

Isaac keeps glancing over at him once they arrive at Jackson’s apartment building, as the silver-haired old doorman politely greets Jackson by name, as Jackson waves a fob over a touchscreen by the elevator and it automatically lights up for the top floor, as Jackson uses the same fob to wave over a sensor by his apartment door to open it, and as Isaac takes in the straight-out-of-a-magazine design aesthetic for Jackson’s overpriced furniture and décor.

“What?” Jackson demands, carrying Isaac’s suitcase to the guestroom and placing it just inside its door.

“Nothing, just watching Prince Jackson take all this in as his due,” Isaac says lightly. “I don’t think I’ve even been inside a building this nice. Does your elevator seriously not have buttons?”

Jackson shrugs, uncomfortable. “More secure if it just goes where the chip in the fob says. And hygienic.” He rummages through a drawer and finds the spare fob the building had given him when he’d moved in. “That’ll get you anywhere you need in the building, including the elevator, pool and apartment itself,” he says, handing it to Isaac. “Oh, it’ll work for the small gym in the building too, but the gym isn’t very good, I usually use the Stanford facilities.”

Isaac’s mouth opens and closes, but he takes the fob and pockets it. “Has a Dorito crumb ever graced the surface of that?” he asks, gesturing grandly toward Jackson’s black leather sofa.

“I don’t really eat junk food,” Jackson says stiffly.

Isaac’s eyes widen in horror.

“Um, new rule?” Jackson asks, “If you get any, can you keep it in your room?” Jackson has learned, after several blow-out fights with Ethan, that asking that junk food stay out of the apartment all together is not a reasonable suggestion. Jackson maybe hadn’t thought this whole moving in together thing through; he’s feeling profoundly exposed, judged and found lacking. He glances at the designer clock on the wall, no doubt another indicator of what a spoiled, privileged brat he is, and decides half past nine is late enough that he can make his excuses and hide in his room.

“Yeah, of course,” Isaac says softly. He looks unhappy, brow furrowed.

Jackson decides he doesn’t want to know what Isaac’s thinking about for once. “Well, that room is for you, that’s the guest bathroom – they should both be fully stocked – and help yourself to anything you want in the kitchen,” Jackson says, gesturing as he speaks. “Any questions? I think I’m gonna call it a night, I’m pretty beat.”

“I’ll be fine,” Isaac says. “Thank you. Really.”

Jackson nods and makes a beeline for his bedroom, carefully pushing the door shut behind him. He realizes it’s probably the first time he’s shut his bedroom door since moving in, no one else other than the movers and the housekeeper from the cleaning service has been in this apartment, and he usually finds an errand to run (lately, Isaac-tracking) when the housekeeper comes by so he doesn’t hover over her and have to make awkward small talk. He feels hyper aware of himself, knowing Isaac’s werewolf hearing will be able to pick up on every movement, will know if he doesn’t go to bed right away, even if his heartbeat hadn’t already given away his lie about being tired. He sighs and gets in the shower in his en suite bathroom, wanting to wash every ounce of this rollercoaster of a day off of himself. Tomorrow, he decides, will be a new day. Tomorrow he can start again.

***

When the next day actually hits, Jackson decides to start it off strong with some Isaac-avoiding. He leaves at 5 am for a few hours of training (today’s addition is finding and running up and down several flights of stairs as he’d decided the day before). He showers at the Stanford gym, drinks a protein shake, and decides to head to the law school library, even though he usually prefers to study at home alone. It’s Sunday before the last week of classes, with finals to start the Friday after next after a few days study period, so his law school classmates are present in full force, all emitting copious amounts of stress which would have created a sympathetic mirror response in Jackson under the best of circumstances. He finds himself a relatively isolated corner to try and block them out, glaring at anyone who dares approach with a touch of wolf menace in his eyes, and is mostly successful at warding them off, even the 2Ls and 3Ls who would never deign to leave space for a 1L like Jackson normally. He studies until his body’s demands for sustenance grow too strong to ignore around 7 pm, and sighs when he remembers he’s out of almost everything and needs to do a grocery run before he can go home. He picks up his usual go-to items, which are mostly lean meats and fresh fruit and vegetables, and, feeling a bit ridiculous, adds on a family-size pack of nacho cheese Doritos.

He hesitates outside his apartment door, takes a moment to listen. The building is fairly well sound-proofed (one of many reasons why he’d chosen it) but he can hear what sounds like French hip-hop from within and knows Isaac must be home. He’s barely in in the door before Isaac is on him, pushing him back against the door to shut it again and pressing his mouth to Jackson’s. Jackson lets the grocery bags thump to the ground and brings his hands up to tangle in Isaac’s hair, luxuriating in several long, slow kisses, chasing Isaac’s mouth for another taste every time he pulls away.

“You smell like you took a bath in stress hormones,” Isaac murmurs. “Want me to take the edge off?” He moves his hand lightly over Jackson’s crotch and licks his lips, and Jackson stiffens, in more ways than one. He forces himself to recall how Isaac had mentioned his _friends_ the day before, had made clear that moving into Jackson’s apartment was not making any commitment to Jackson himself, and pushes Isaac’s hand away.

“Law library right pre-finals,” Jackson says shortly. “And I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Isaac swallows and takes a couple of steps back, staring at Jackson with an unreadable expression.

“I, um, got groceries,” Jackson says, picking his bags back up and placing them on the kitchen island. He starts putting his purchases away.

“That all looks extremely healthy,” Isaac says.

“Yup,” Jackson says tightly. “I have food issues, Ethan told me so all the time.” He kicks himself mentally, he hadn’t meant to mention his ex a minute after he’d had his tongue down Isaac’s throat. It vaguely occurs to him he hasn’t uttered Ethan’s name out loud since leaving London. There’s only one item left in the grocery bags now. “Got you some Doritos, though.” He throws the bag at Isaac with a little too much force, but the other werewolf catches it against his chest. Jackson winces at the sound of chips smashing.

“Do you want me and my Doritos to leave?” Isaac asks in a small voice, and Jackson’s mood shifts from uncomfortable anger to guilt instantly. “It’s ok if you do,” Isaac continues, “I realize you weren’t exactly in your right mind yesterday.”

“I didn’t get nasty fake cheese dust chips so you’d _leave_ ,” Jackson protests helplessly. “I was trying to make you feel at home.”

Isaac bites his lip. “That’s actually really sweet. For future reference, my favorite is Cheeto Puffs. Even better for getting nasty fake cheese dust everywhere.” He’s still clutching the Doritos against his chest. “But I also like Doritos and Mountain Dew, like the sweaty comic book nerd I still am on the inside.”

“Like… Hulk?” Jackson tries, recalling their conversation with the thieving kids. “Is that a comics thing?”

Isaac smiles a little. “Yeah, Hulk is a comics thing, you weird jock. Haven’t you seen the Avengers movies, they’re only the biggest thing this century?”

Jackson shrugs. “I’ve seen some of them, but I’ve been busy with supernatural shit, I guess. And I was never much for non-required reading.”

Isaac shakes his head. “I’m going to go hide this contraband, and then I’m going to come back, and I’ll watch you make whatever obnoxious food it takes to maintain 8-pack abs, and you can tell me about your day. Ok?”

Jackson nods, because he doesn’t think he has much choice in the matter. He hopes Isaac isn’t expecting him to have anything interesting to say about his day. That was another thing he hadn’t considered before this moving in together plan – how _boring_ he is, and how obvious that will become to Isaac if they’re spending extended amounts of time together.

“Am I feeding both of us?” Jackson asks when Isaac reemerges. 

“I could eat,” Isaac says.

“Well my day wasn’t particularly exciting,” Jackson says, pulling out some chicken and vegetables to prepare. “Worked out. Went to the library and studied most of the day. Gave the other students my best stink-eye so they’d leave me alone. Went to the grocery store. How was your day?”

“Do you usually study in the library?”

“Sometimes,” Jackson says evasively.

“Don’t let me chase you out of your own home, Jackson,” Isaac chides. “Do whatever you’d normally do. And if you want me to disappear for a bit, or for forever, just say so. I work and/or have class most days anyway.”

Jackson blushes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to… it’s just been a while since I’ve had anyone in my space.”

“Since Ethan?” Isaac asks lightly.

Jackson swallows. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Ok,” Isaac says easily. Luckily, unlike Jackson, Isaac seems to actually know how to maintain a conversation, and he launches into a tale of some obnoxious lunch guests at his restaurant. Jackson listens, and comments and laughs in the right places, and feels the knot in his gut slowly loosen. Maybe they could manage this after all.

Alone in his bed later, Jackson finds himself flipping through old pictures of Ethan on his phone. He tells himself he just wants to look at the naked ones, take the edge off by himself since he hadn’t indulged with Isaac, but mostly he looks at regular pictures of Ethan and himself together. He hits his favorite and stops for a minute - they’re walking hand in hand down a tree-lined street as the sun sets, the picture surreptitiously taken from behind by one of their London packmates. It’s still the lockscreen picture on his phone, although he should really get around to changing it. He thinks, not for the first time, about texting Ethan. Telling him it’s not too late to change his mind and follow him to Palo Alto. Telling him he hates Palo Alto more than anything, and he’ll take the next plane back to London, if Ethan promises to take him back and pick back up where they’d left off as if nothing had happened. Telling him he lives with a fucking _true_ _omega_ now, who greets him at the door with hungry kisses and offers of blowjobs to take the edge off his stressful day. Telling him, with no small amount of viciousness, the omega is _Isaac Lahey_ , who Ethan had frequently complained about being profoundly unwelcoming to Ethan and his late twin Aiden in the McCall Pack.

Jackson cycles back to the beginning of the photos instead, and starts flipping through them again.


	6. Jacky is a very good boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac smiles and bends to ruffle the fur on top of his head, before dropping to his knees to hug wolf Jackson.
> 
> “There you are! I missed you, handsome. Did you miss me too? I bet you did. I bet you just love your omega, don’t you, Jacky?”
> 
> Isaac scratches his belly, and Jackson lets out a low rumbling sound of approval.
> 
> “You like the name Jacky, don’t you?” Isaac whispers. “Jackson doesn’t know what he’s on about.”

Things improve a little over the following weeks. Jackson and Isaac settle into something of a routine. Isaac’s gone a lot, and if Jackson prompts him, he’ll say he’s going to work or class or more work (how many shifts does the man work?!). Isaac leaves in the late evenings a lot too, and Jackson pointedly does not ask or let himself think about where Isaac goes then. Jackson finishes his workouts in the mornings, usually before Isaac is even awake, and then spends the rest of his days frantically trying to cram as much legal knowledge as he can into his brain at some combination of the law library (the collective stress can be a bit motivating, he’s decided) and their apartment. Jackson cooks in the evenings, and Isaac chatters at him about his day if he’s not working the evening shift at the restaurant, and sometimes even deigns to eat Jackson’s health food.

Even though he knows it’s a terrible idea that’s going to lead to him getting his heart broken, Jackson finds himself sneaking in more and more casual touches, which Isaac reciprocates. When they’re both home, Isaac likes to hang around Jackson even when he’s studying, content to quietly lie with his head in Jackson’s lap or on his shoulder and be ignored, as long as they’re constantly in contact in some way, preferably with Jackson idly playing with his hair. Jackson notices Isaac regularly steals Jackson’s clothes, usually whatever Jackson’s worn most recently, and neither of them discuss that, but Jackson has to hide a smile every time he sees Isaac wearing them – especially if he’s wearing them on a late evening outing. He knows, and Isaac undoubtedly knows, his scent being all over Isaac means other werewolves will leave him alone for the most part.

Jackson, who’s always been big on his alone time and small on sharing, is surprised at how quickly he gets used to having Isaac around, how natural it feels to let Isaac borrow his things, how reassuring it feels to just be in physical contact with him, like Isaac’s just a piece of him he hadn’t quite realized was missing – and simultaneously terrified, because he knows it’s way too soon to be thinking that way.

It’s all kind of glorious, even if it feels like they’re stuck in some 1950s show where they can’t move beyond cuddling.

But the dreaded start of finals is rapidly approaching, and Jackson can feel panic setting in at how much he has left to try and memorize. Unlike Jackson’s law school classes where a hundred percent of his grade will be based on quarter-end exams, Isaac says his grades are mostly determined already, and he doesn’t seem too concerned about any finals he may have, which is lucky, because Jackson’s more than concerned enough for two people.

“You need to take a break,” Isaac declares, as they’re finishing dinner, the second-to-last night before Jackson’s finals begin.

Jackson had been about to go back to his room for a follow up round of studying, and his eyes nearly bug out of his head. “There is no time for a break. I only have one day left before finals start – Contracts on Friday will probably be ok, but then I have Civ Pro on Monday! My worst subject. I’m going to fail, and I’ll never get a job, and my dad will disown me.”

“Yeah, no,” Isaac says. “Let’s talk that out for a minute. You said you guys have some weird grading system that’s basically pass/fail?”

“It’s Honors, Pass, Restricted Credit, Fail,” Jackson recites. “It’s all bullshit, just another way of saying A/B/C/F. A third of the class gets Honors, so that’s basically an A. So I need to get Honors in everything. Although I’ll be lucky to even get a Pass at this point in fucking Civ Pro,” he adds mournfully.

“And,” Isaac continues calmly, breezing past everything Jackson’s just said, “the reason they have this is because it’s Stanford. And they think employers should be totally happy to get an average Stanford student with passing grades, because it’s Stanford. That makes good sense to me, makes good sense to the people who run Stanford, and probably makes good sense to employers too.”

Jackson is deeply regretting having explained Stanford’s ridiculous theories to Isaac earlier that week when he’d been feeling less panicked.

“Maybe, just once, you could be ok with being average?”

“No,” Jackson says firmly.

“Yes,” Isaac replies firmly back. “Average at Stanford is still pretty great, Jackson. Isn’t that the whole reason to go there? So you can maybe try a _little_ less hard because you’ve proven yourself already?”

“ _No_ ,” Jackson says, horrified. “The reason to go there is to be the best. And I should be the best of the best.”

“And suppose all that stuff happens, that you were worried about,” Isaac continues. “You somehow don’t pass, even though you’ve been studying non-stop at least since I’ve been here. You don’t get the job you wanted. Your parents accepted you being a werewolf and coming back from being briefly dead. They accepted you liking men. They accepted you leaving London to chase your dreams, after making them move there in the first place, even though you don’t call them as much as you should. I’m pretty sure your somehow failing a class for the first time in your life isn’t going to make them suddenly disown you.”

Jackson is also regretting having confessed to Isaac that his mom’s been complaining about him not staying in touch enough. Jackson’s thankfully developed a much better relationship with his adoptive parents with the wisdom of some age, eventually realizing his animus toward them for daring to not be his biological parents was misplaced, when they’d tried to do their best by him.

“Literally, you can drop out of law school tomorrow and become an Abercrombie model, with what you look like, and your insane ability to work out four hours a day and never eat a Cheeto.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Models have to start by like fifteen. I’m ancient,” Jackson snaps, not that he’ll ever admit to having looked up modeling careers in a moment of weakness.

“Ok, not that that’s true, but fuck modeling, where’d you go before Stanford again? And what did you study?”

Jackson knows Isaac hasn’t forgotten, they’d just discussed it the day before. “Oxford,” Jackson mutters. “Finance, basically.”

“Right. So you can get a job tomorrow doing finance with the degree you _already have_ from like, the most prestigious university in the world?”

Jackson glowers at the floor.

“Glad we agree,” Isaac says. “So, you’re taking a break. Omega’s orders.”

Jackson looks up at that. “Omegas are supposed to take the orders, not give them,” he says, intending to growl out the words, but he just sounds sulky.

“Should have found yourself a better one, then,” Isaac says. “I think you should be Jacky for a while. We can watch a movie and cuddle on the couch.”

Jackson stares at Isaac blankly. “Who the fuck is Jacky.”

“Your wolf, duh. You seemed way calmer and happier when you were him for a bit when we went tracking the baby thieves.”

“My wolf is _not_ named Jacky.”

“What’s he named, then?”

Jackson throws his hands up in exasperation. “He doesn’t have a special name! He’s me, I’m him, we’re Jackson.”

“That’s just silly, how do we identify who we’re talking about? Since you haven’t bothered to come up with a name for him in six years, I declare him Jacky. It’s cute.”

“My wolf is a cold-blooded killer. Not cute.”

“Wolves are warm-blooded. And I don’t care if he’s a killer or a predator or whatever else, Jacky is adorable. Why haven’t you shifted yet?”

Jackson sputters.

Isaac smiles at him sweetly. “I actually haven’t watched all the Avengers movies either, since _I_ was running between packs while you were racking up fancy degrees, so I think we should work through them together and get you some culture. We’re going to start with Iron Man since that was released first. Google says it’s two hours and six minutes, I looked it up during dinner. You should go to sleep once we’re done, but if you absolutely feel the need, I will allow you to go back to studying after. So you’re just wasting your own time.”

Jackson raises a finger. “If I do this, it does not mean that I’m conceding any of your points. Definitely not that my wolf is named… that. You’re kind of a bully.”

“Do you have any popcorn? Of course you don’t. I think I hid some in my room, though.” Isaac wanders off, presumably to find it.

“We literally just ate!” Jackson calls, half muffled as he pulls his shirt off. 

“I’m a twenty-two-year-old male, with werewolf metabolism,” Isaac says, reappearing and putting a package of microwave popcorn in the microwave. “I’m always hungry, and I have no idea how you’re not, with how much exercise you get. Plus, popcorn isn’t real food.”

“True, it’s mostly just hydrogenated fat and sodium,” Jackson mutters, stripping off his pants and underwear.

“Sounds delicious,” Isaac says. “Listen to it pop! Isn’t that such a tasty sound?”

Jackson ignores him and shifts instead. He hates to admit Isaac’s right, but he immediately feels calmer in his fully-shifted wolf form. He considers going over to sit by the couch, but being close to his omega sounds better, so he goes around the kitchen island to bump into Isaac’s legs instead. Isaac smiles and bends to ruffle the fur on top of his head, before dropping to his knees to hug wolf Jackson.

“There you are! I missed you, handsome. Did you miss me too? I bet you did. I bet you just love your omega, don’t you, Jacky?”

Isaac scratches his belly, and Jackson lets out a low rumbling sound of approval.

“You like the name Jacky, don’t you?” Isaac whispers. “Jackson doesn’t know what he’s on about.”

Jackson would protest, but Isaac’s still scratching in just the right spot. Jackson’s rumbling gets louder.

“That’s what I thought,” Isaac says smugly. “Go on then, go sit by the couch, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Jackson doesn’t move, but allows Isaac to stand back up and raise an eyebrow at him, as he empties his popcorn into a bowl. 

“Like a lot of attention, huh?” Isaac rolls his eyes. “Nothing in common with your human counterpart.”

Jackson trots after Isaac to the couch and waits expectantly as Isaac splays himself on the couch and places his popcorn within easy reach on the coffee table.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Isaac says. “Do you want to lay on my chest?”

Jackson jumps up on him eagerly.

“Oof, you’re heavier than you look, Jacky.” But Isaac doesn’t try to move him, just takes up with firmly stroking his back.

Jackson lets out another rumble of pleasure. He doesn’t absorb much of the movie but likes that the lead character, Tony, is a bit of a douchebag and is a bit less of a douchebag by the end. He can appreciate a redemption arc. He also likes that Tony’s only superpowers are being hyperintelligent and a billionaire.

Isaac seems enthralled by the whole thing, and Jackson has to nudge him on occasion to make sure he doesn’t lose focus of his all-important petting duties. Isaac insists they watch all the way through the credits, and looks at Jackson smugly when there’s a bonus scene after. “See, I told you there’s extras!” he says. “Incredible Hulk next time. It’s not very good, but maybe you’ll identify with his anger issues, hmm?” Isaac yawns and pushes at Jackson and, even though he knows it’s an unwise idea, Jackson does not cooperate with any efforts to move himself. “Fine,” Isaac says sleepily, wrapping an arm around Jackson’s back, “just this once. You’re so fucking warm.”

Jackson decides it’s a compliment and snuggles more firmly into his omega to sleep.

***

When Jacky wakes up, the clock indicates it’s 7 a.m., which is on the late side for him. He must have been very comfortable laying on Isaac’s chest. He takes a deep inhale of Isaac’s comforting scent, and considers what to do. He wants to go outside, run and play and maybe hunt. Isaac would have to come too, of course, his omega should never be too far. But Jacky knows instinctively that waking Isaac up too early might lead to Isaac _not_ wanting to come play with him outside, which would be terrible.

Jacky hops off Isaac’s chest and paces the too small apartment to kill some time. He attempts to make a game of chasing his tail around the kitchen island but quickly tires of it. He inspects his own room but finds nothing interesting, and considers inspecting Isaac’s room before sadly recalling that Isaac had forbidden it. Which is really tragic, since Jacky can see and smell an intriguing-looking pile of Isaac’s carelessly discarded dirty laundry, which he thinks would be really fun to play in. He sniffs at Isaac’s shoes by the door but does not chew them, because he is a very good boy.

Deciding hours must have passed, he gives up and heads back toward the couch, pacing around it several times before stopping and licking at Isaac’s face.

“Whuh,” Isaac mumbles, trying to shove Jacky away. Jacky licks at his face more determinedly. It’s time to wake up! Isaac shoves him away more forcefully, and Jacky whines. Isaac’s eyes open and he stares at Jacky in confusion. “Did you stay as the wolf all night?” Jacky tries to lick at his face some more, but Isaac puts an arm up as a barrier. Jacky headbutts his arm. Isaac glances at the clock. “It’s like 7:15! Rude. Don’t you need to go do some crazy workout?”

Jacky barks in approval, tail wagging furiously. Finally, Isaac is getting it. Jacky jerks his head toward the front door.

“Do you want me to… walk you?” Jacky barks again, excited. “Jackson, just change back. Your exams start tomorrow, remember?”

Isaac sits up with a sigh when Jacky doesn’t shift. Isaac runs his hands through his hair to try and smooth it. Jacky barks again, in case Isaac had forgotten about the promised walk.

“What?” Isaac asks.

Jacky just looks at him expectantly and continues to wag his tail.

“Fine,” Isaac says. “I will take you outside, but only because you were being really pathetic yesterday and I feel bad for you. I can’t believe you woke me up this early, do _not_ expect this to become a habit. And you are changing back right after.”

Isaac disappears into his room, closing the door behind him. Jacky whines in distress and is considering escalating to a full-on howl when Isaac finally reemerges, hair moderately controlled, face looking freshly-scrubbed, dressed in ratty sweats and a Stanford Law hoodie that is most definitely stolen from Jackson’s closet. Isaac yawns and almost trips over Jacky, who was waiting right outside his door.

Jacky barks in delight, and attempts to jump up on Isaac, who winces and tries to shove the wolf away. “Down, boy. Come on, let’s go outside. You want to go outside, right?”

Jacky bounds to the front door, waiting impatiently as Isaac grabs his phone, wallet and keys, and after a moment’s consideration, disappears into Jackson’s room and reemerges with a backpack. Jacky bounds out of the door the moment Isaac opens it, ecstatic to be free of the apartment, ignoring Isaac’s protests to slow down.

Isaac catches up to him at the elevator and glares at him. “Does your building even allow pets? You really do not look enough like a husky anyway,” he says worriedly, glancing around, but luckily no one else is present. Isaac hits lobby on the elevator’s touchscreen. “And you’re definitely too big and scary-looking to be off-leash.”

Jacky barks derisively. Him! On a leash. What a silly omega.

They manage to make it out of the building with just a raised eyebrow from the doorman, and Jacky happily trots toward the park he knows is a few blocks away from his apartment building, stopping to pee along the way, Isaac muttering behind him about how he can’t believe this is his life. Once in the park, Jacky takes off at top speed, running circles around the open space. There are a few people out for a run or walking their dogs, but it’s a cold, gray day so they’re mostly alone. If they’d come at 5 a.m. like Jackson usually does, they’d have had the place to themselves. Isaac protests at first about Jacky just taking off, but after a while gives in and runs after him, not as fast as Jacky, but just a little too fast for a human.

Jacky turns and chases after Isaac at some point, Isaac laughing despite himself. Isaac gets even faster, although not fast enough to outrun Jacky while Isaac isn’t shifted at all and Jacky’s in full shift. Jacky slows down so the chase can be a better game, and then tackles Isaac to the ground playfully, careful not to let his claws hurt his omega. Isaac rolls on to his back and Jacky licks his face some more, until Isaac shoves him off, laughing again. Jacky decides his omega’s laughter is the best sound in the world.

“Jackson?” Isaac asks, biting his lip. “Jackson, you have a final exam tomorrow. You were very concerned about it. I’m pretty sure you wanted to spend all of today studying. Can you change back for me now? I brought clothes for you in the backpack.”

Jacky isn’t sure why Isaac keeps talking about exams. They don’t sound important. Playing with his omega is important.

Jacky attempts to get Isaac to run with him again, but Isaac waves him off, apparently having decided to just lie on the grass for a while. Jacky runs around some more by himself, exploring various interesting parts of the park. He hears a small animal in the bushes nearby and bounds after it, and is thrilled when it turns out to be a rabbit. He makes quick work of the creature, snapping its neck between his powerful jaws. He decides to offer it to Isaac and trots back to where Isaac is lying in the grass to proudly drop the rabbit close to him.

Isaac turns his head to look and raises his eyebrows. “Very impressive. I don’t think that’s on Jackson’s approved diet, though. It probably has parasites or something. Can you please dear god shift back to human now?”

Jacky nudges the rabbit toward Isaac with his snout, not sure why his offering is being rejected. Does Isaac want something else?

“No, I insist, all for you,” Isaac says, waving him off. “Don’t complain to me when you get indigestion.”

Jacky huffs, but settles in to eat his breakfast. It’s delicious and deeply satisfying to eat something he’s just killed, the rabbit’s blood and flesh still warm as he tears into it.

After Jacky’s done eating, Isaac tries to wipe the blood and gristle off him, and tries again to convince Jacky to shift back to human, and when Jacky ignores him again, insists they return home, much to Jacky’s dismay. He follows Isaac reluctantly, only letting himself be distracted by interesting sights and sounds and smells a few times. Jacky can sense Isaac’s growing impatience, though, as well as something else. Worry? Silly omega, as if he needs to be worried in Jacky’s presence. But Jacky doesn’t want Isaac to be upset, so he quietly follows along, even when Isaac leads him back into the soulless apartment building and up the elevator to their apartment.

Once inside, Isaac sits on the floor and holds his arms out to Jacky, who happily bounds into them. Isaac nuzzles Jacky into his chest and kisses the top of his head. “You feeling better?” Isaac asks. “You seemed like you were having a lot of fun in the park. Must have really needed that break, huh. It’s time to switch back, though. I want Jackson back now.”

Jacky just gazes at Isaac somberly. He isn’t sure why Isaac would want Jacky’s weak human form. Jacky wants to go hunting properly when Isaac’s ready to take him out again, catch something better for him to feast on, maybe a deer? Perhaps the rabbit was insulting. Providing for his omega is important.

“If you don’t change back right this second,” Isaac snaps, “I’m putting a leash and collar on you and parading you around.”

Jacky barks in laughter. It’s cute that his omega thinks he’d ever be able to catch Jacky to do that, if Jacky didn’t want to be caught. Disrespectful, but cute.

“Maybe in front of other werewolves,” Isaac threatens. “Maybe I’ll take pictures to send to Scott and them.”

Jacky ignores him.

“Fuck. Stay here, I’ll be back,” Isaac says, standing up and disappearing into his room and closing the door again. Jacky whines, not liking being shut out, cut off from his omega. 

Isaac reemerges several minutes later. His hair sticking up all over the place like he’s been tugging on it. “Jackson? There’s something I need to tell you. It’s important. And I need you human to properly understand it.”

Jacky looks up at him calmly. He can understand Isaac just fine, and he is human! He’s just not in human form at the moment.

Isaac bites his lip. “Jackson, please,” he whispers. “I need you to help me with this.”

Jacky whines, not liking the distress rolling off his omega.

“Fine,” Isaac says. “There was a werewolf outside.” Jacky starts growling immediately. “Yeah, and I need human you, I need _Jackson_ , to help me with him. You were so distracted by going on a walk like a fucking _dog_ and goddamn well peeing everywhere, you didn’t even notice a danger to you and your omega!”

Jacky yelps as if kicked at the harsh tone. He would never fail to defend his omega, never! “Where is he?” he demands, words half-lost in his growl, reaching out and grabbing at Isaac roughly.

Isaac’s eyes widen in shock. He wrenches himself out of Jackson’s grip, before throwing his arms around Jackson’s suddenly human form and basically attempting to suffocate him with a hug.

“Where’s the werewolf?” Jackson demands urgently, unsuccessfully trying to extricate himself from Isaac’s grip.

“Oh shut up,” Isaac gasps. “You fucking terrified me. Don’t you ever, ever do that to me again. Did you know that could happen?”

“What are you talking about?” Jackson says. “I need to find the werewolf. What did he look like?”

Isaac takes a step back, his hands on Jackson’s shoulders holding them an arm’s length apart. He stares into Jackson’s eyes. “I’ll tell you,” he says, “if you promise you’re not switching back into the wolf. Do you promise?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jackson says. “I’m stronger as the wolf. I can’t promise not to use that.”

“Ok,” Isaac says. “If you feel like you have to, then we will _discuss_ it, and if I agree with you that’s the best decision, then you can full-shift. But not otherwise. Promise or I’m not telling you shit.”

Jackson growls and flashes werewolf blue eyes. Isaac returns his growl and flashes his own werewolf gold eyes back at him, even though Jackson would easily win in a physical fight between them. That makes Jackson pause. He definitely doesn’t like his omega’s defiance, but Isaac must really be serious if he’s risking the ire of a stronger werewolf like this. “Fine,” Jackson grits out.

“There was no werewolf,” Isaac says quickly. “I lied to get you to switch back.”

“What the fuck?! You can’t make shit like that up, Isaac!”

“What was I supposed to do, Jackson? You fucking abandoned me with some puppy. There _could_ have been a werewolf, and you really might not have noticed. Did you know that could happen, you could get stuck like that?”

Jackson breathes heavily and doesn’t answer.

“Well?”

“I would have noticed,” Jackson says miserably, hating how weak his voice sounds. “I would have noticed if there was a threat to you. My wolf… he only cares about you, he wanted to play and have fun with you, but he’s not a puppy, he’s more than capable of defending us if necessary.”

“Did you know you could get stuck?”

Jackson looks at the floor. “Yes, but… I usually don’t lose my human side so much so quickly. You bring something out in him. Make him relaxed.”

“Twice. Twice, you have full-shifted around me, without telling me that extremely important detail. Do you really think I wanted my laptop back so badly I would have been ok with you getting stuck in full-shift indefinitely?”

“I’m fine if it’s just a few hours!” Jackson protests. “I’ve done it a ton. I shouldn’t have stayed overnight, is all.”

“What’s the longest you’ve stayed as the wolf?”

“Six weeks,” he mutters. That time had ended quite a bit worse – he’d spent six weeks basically acting like Ethan’s dog, despite Ethan begging him and threatening him every day to turn back, and had only shifted back after a hunter had attacked Ethan, almost killing him. Jackson, still in full-shift, had ripped the hunter’s throat out, and only shifted back to helplessly hold Ethan in his arms as Ethan nearly bled out from his wounds.

“Eight years. Malia Tate was stuck as a full-shift coyote for eight years, living in the woods like an animal. She killed her own adoptive family by accident. That is not a risk I’m willing to have you take.”

Jackson winces. He vaguely recalls having met Malia, Peter Hale’s biological daughter, in the McCall Pack when he’d gone back to Beacon Hills. “How’d she get out of it?”

“Scott managed to alpha roar her out of it. It was a close thing, and I have no idea if it would work on someone as bullheaded as you.”

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” Jackson says softly. “I really thought I had better control over it. I just… I felt really shitty, and you made me feel really good, and I wanted to keep feeling good.”

Isaac sighs. “I’m going out. Try and study, you still have Contracts tomorrow. Also, consider putting some clothes on.”

Jackson blushes and claps his hands over his crotch. By the time he’s reemerged from a quick shower to rid himself of excess rabbit and pulling some clothes on in his room, Isaac’s already gone, and Jackson winces at having upset his omega. He winces again when he sees it’s already well past one, he can’t believe he’s wasted his entire morning playing in the park as a wolf instead of studying, and more importantly, that he’d ignored Isaac’s multiple requests and demands to shift back. He feels a bit nauseated, some combination of uncooked wild rabbit and stress, and hopes his werewolf resistance to illness can take care of any diseases the rabbit may have been carrying. He unhappily settles in on the couch, which thankfully still smells pleasantly of Isaac, with his books and practice exams to try and salvage what’s left of the day.


	7. you’re so beautiful like this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You can just shut the fuck up until I find a better use for that nasty little mouth.” Jackson’s eyes glow werewolf blue and Isaac’s gold, and Jackson has a feeling they’re staying that way for the indefinite future. Isaac shuts up.

Jackson’s still in the living room, considering whether or not it’s time to give up on his last-minute cramming and go to bed, when Isaac returns late that night. A glance at the clock reveals it’s a little past two a.m.

Isaac shrugs off his jacket (not one of Jackson’s, Jackson notes unhappily) to reveal a leather t-shirt with a pattern of v-shaped mesh cutouts pointing down at his crotch that makes him look decidedly edible. The tight black jeans don’t hurt either. Jackson jealously wonders where Isaac had acquired these clothes without stopping back at the apartment. He doesn’t go to greet Isaac at the door, knowing he won’t want to smell other men on his omega. He hasn’t been awake for Isaac’s late-night returns prior to tonight since Isaac had moved in. Jackson starts slamming his books shut, wanting to beat a hasty retreat, but Isaac doesn’t take the hint, walking up to him a little unevenly.

“Hi,” Isaac says. Now that he’s closer, Jackson finds himself overwhelmed by the smell of alcohol and semen on him. He wonders if the rabbit from that morning is going to finally make the reappearance it’s been threatening all day. 

“Wolfsbane-laced Everclear?” Jackson asks, standing.

Isaac nods. “Jackson,” he begins.

“What.”

“I – hi.”

“It’s late, I’m going to bed.”

“I wanted to tell you.” Isaac stops.

“Tell me what?”

Jackson sighs and attempts to retreat to his room when Isaac doesn’t say anything, but Isaac steps closer to him, into his personal space.

“ _Jackson_.”

Jackson grabs Isaac’s arms to stop him from coming closer. “I know I said you can see whatever friends you like,” he says through gritted teeth, squeezing Isaac’s biceps. “But respect me enough, _in my own home_ , to not throw in my face when you’re out fucking other men. You smell disgusting.”

Jackson hadn’t realized how much Isaac had been allowing Jackson to read off of him over the past week until it all abruptly cuts off. Vague sensations of longing and lust dissipate into nothing and Isaac’s eyes completely shutter. “I’m sorry,” Isaac says immediately. “I’m sorry, I should have known better, I just had a little bit to drink and I wanted to see you and I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry. Don’t be mad, please.”

Jackson lets go of Isaac’s arms immediately, and his eyes widen in horror at the dark purple bruising on them. He staggers several steps back. “Stop,” he says. “I’m- Are you ok? I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.”

“It’s fine, it was my fault,” Isaac says quickly.

“No, it was _not_ ,” Jackson says, self-loathing clear in his voice. The rabbit is definitely going to make a reappearance. “I put bruises on you.”

Isaac looks down in confusion, as if he hadn’t even registered the pain, although clearly he had on some level based on how quickly he’d moved to apologizing and making excuses for Jackson. The bruises have already half-disappeared thanks to Isaac’s werewolf healing. Isaac shrugs. “I’ve had worse.”

“That is not- That doesn’t make it ok. I’m pretty sure that makes me hurting you worse.”

Isaac looks lost, and helpless, and Jackson just wants to pull him into his arms and keep him there for the rest of time, but Jackson is a terrible person, just another abuser in a long line of abusers, and he has absolutely no right. Jackson wraps his arms around himself instead, wishing he could make himself smaller, disappear, sink into the floor, anything. He looks down at his arms and imagines he sees scales shimmer across them and shudders.

“I should go shower,” Isaac says after a moment. “You should probably go to bed, big day tomorrow.”

“Ok,” Jackson says miserably.

“Ok,” Isaac says. Neither of them move, and then they both do, and Jackson hisses and shudders when they step toward each other inadvertently, trying to get to their respective destinations. Jackson stops and waves an arm for Isaac to go first so he doesn’t have to get too close to Jackson on the way to the bathroom.

The rabbit does not taste anywhere as delicious on round two.

***

The next morning, Jackson keeps his workout brief, and is shocked when he comes back to the apartment a little after 7 a.m. to find Isaac not only awake but in the kitchen. Isaac gestures to him to sit at the high-top counter in one of the barstools Jackson has literally never used but had purchased when he first moved in months ago because it seemed like a good idea at the time. Isaac puts a plate and knife and fork in front of him. “Egg white omelet and turkey sausage,” Isaac announces. “I would say breakfast of champions, but it’s really very sad, Jackson. You need _some_ fat in your diet.”

“It looks amazing,” Jackson says, ignoring Isaac’s jibes. He takes a bite. “And tastes amazing. I thought you weren’t that kind of omega,” he teases.

He expects Isaac to roll his eyes but Isaac just looks at Jackson steadily and doesn’t respond. Jackson shrugs and finishes his breakfast. An awful thought occurs to him. “This isn’t apology breakfast, is it?” Jackson asks. “Because you have nothing to apologize for. And I do.”

“It’s not,” Isaac says. “I just wanted to do something nice for your first exam day.”

“Well it is. Really nice, thank you. I don’t deserve you being this kind to me.”

Isaac raises an eyebrow. “Leaving aside what you deserve– I’ll be kind to whomever I damn well please.”

Jackson smiles. “That sounds more like the omega I know.”

Isaac rolls his eyes then. “Whatever. Go get me an Honors, and we can talk about apologies later.” He uses the barstool, which has a convenient spinning function Jackson had never fully appreciated, to spin Jackson around, putting him at a good height to be kissed, and proceeds to kiss Jackson thoroughly. 

***

His first exam is not as bad as Jackson had feared. Part of him wants to immediately throw himself into his other subjects, but it’s Friday, his next exam isn’t till Monday (even if it is Civ Pro) and he also desperately wants to see Isaac and make things up to him, so he heads home. He’s disappointed when Isaac isn’t there, although he realizes he’d known Isaac usually works most of the day on Fridays anyway. Jackson settles in on the couch and reluctantly attempts to make himself study while waiting for Isaac to come home. Isaac usually works the evening shift at the restaurant on Thursdays through Saturdays, so Jackson forces himself to make dinner and eat it by himself, feeling punished even though he’s pretty sure it’s just coincidence.

Isaac comes back around 10:30 p.m., and Jackson jerks awake from where he’d been dozing on the couch, his Civ Pro book over his face threatening to suffocate him.

“Hi,” Isaac says, standing by the door.

“Hey,” Jackson says, voice a little hoarse from sleep.

“Aren’t you going to come greet me?” Isaac asks.

Jackson flushes. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to.”

Isaac raises an eyebrow at him. “I don’t make breakfast for just anyone, you know.”

Jackson goes over to him and kisses him tentatively, taking off Isaac’s jacket (which is really Jackson’s jacket, he notes happily) while he’s at it. After a moment’s consideration he lets the jacket fall to the floor instead of putting it away, which he does approximately never.

“How was Contracts,” Isaac murmurs, and Jackson knows he’s done for, with how sexy he finds the innocuous question, in that voice.

“Ok,” Jackson murmurs back. “I don’t think I failed, at least. How was work?”

“Work-like,” Isaac says. Isaac bends and picks up the discarded jacket and hangs it up in the entryway closet, much to Jackson’s bemusement. Isaac’s been very good about picking up after himself in the common areas, although Jackson can tell from the glances he gets of Isaac’s disaster of a room when its door is open that this is done entirely for Jackson’s benefit. “Don’t give me that look,” Isaac adds, noticing Jackson’s expression.

“Do I have a look?” Jackson asks pseudo-innocently.

“Like you can’t believe you domesticated me,” Isaac says wryly.

“Have I?”

Isaac narrows his eyes. “I’m just capable of following basic rules.”

Jackson sobers at that. He grabs Isaac’s hand and tugs him back to sit on the couch with him. “Funny you should mention that.” He laughs nervously. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot. _I_ broke a rule. The most basic rule.”

Isaac raises an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“The rule that we have rules. That I can’t get angry and violent at you for doing something I don’t like that wasn’t on the list.” Jackson pauses. “Not that I should be getting violent at you for anything.”

Isaac considers this. “That doesn’t work in the real world,” he says dismissively. “It’s impossible to come up with every possible rule, and I knew you’d be upset if I approached you smelling of someone else. That’s half of why I did it.”

Jackson swallows, not quite prepared for Isaac to be so forthright. “What’s the other half?”

Isaac sighs. “I was scared, I guess. Of getting in too deep. Of how scared I was when I thought you’d just be stuck as a wolf and I wouldn’t be able to help you or get you back, when we’d just started building something. I wanted to prove to myself that I didn’t need you. But it all just backfired.”

“Oh,” Jackson says, feeling oddly touched. “Are we? Building something?”

Isaac looks at him like Jackson’s extremely stupid. “This, the last couple weeks, has been me trying,” he says. “Maybe I’m not very good at it.”

“Oh,” Jackson says again, surprised. He tries very hard not to think about how Isaac’s version of trying includes seeing other people, but Isaac _had_ said he’s never tried exclusivity before, while Jackson had been a serial monogamist his whole life, his only experience being serious, multi-year relationships with Lydia followed by Ethan. Maybe this is just the most he’ll get from behind Isaac’s many walls, at least to start. Jackson clears his throat. “So what’s the penalty? For my breaking a rule?”

Isaac frowns at him. “I didn’t agree you broke a rule. And penalties are for.” He stops, clearly having been about to say penalties were for him and not for Jackson.

“Whether or not you think I did something wrong, I know I did,” Jackson says seriously. “You completely shut down last night, do you know that? You’ve been letting me read so much off you, but all of that stopped, and you just kept apologizing and making excuses for me. To stop me from hurting you more. I don’t ever want you to feel afraid of me like that. I don’t ever want to hurt you again, and if I do, I want you to yell and scream and hit me, not apologize.”

“You’re making too big a deal of this,” Isaac says, scowling. “I’m a werewolf just like you. A couple of bruises are nothing. They faded in minutes, I’m totally fine now.”

“If you were some other werewolf, maybe,” Jackson says, despite knowing this is a dangerous path to walk down with Isaac. “But your human side didn’t disappear when you became a werewolf, and you did not react well at all. And I’m fully invested in keeping all your sides happy.”

Isaac doesn’t respond verbally, but glares at the floor and wraps his arms around himself.

“For the record, I’m never going to forgive myself unless you give me a penalty,” Jackson tries. “Probably not even then. Whatever you want.”

Isaac rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what I want. What I want is for you to get over yourself and fuck me. But it’s clear that you only care about what you want and whatever perfect little alpha-omega fantasy universe you’ve created in your head.”

Jackson stares at him. He’s pretty sure that’s unfair, but he’s at a loss for the appropriate defense. Meanwhile, his hormones are reacting excitedly to Isaac’s demand to be fucked, which does not seem at all appropriate.

Isaac smirks at him, clearly picking up on the pheromones indicating his arousal. “Well,” he says, “maybe this night doesn’t have to be a complete loss.”

Jackson blinks, feeling a bit afraid. “What?”

Isaac grins at him, all predator.

“I’ve come up with a penalty,” Isaac announces. “Since you feel so guilty, you can make it up to me with an earth-shattering orgasm. Maybe more than one. Thoughts?”

Jackson’s mouth opens and closes. “In what world is letting me have sex with you a punishment?”

Isaac smiles beatifically. “I get something I want, that you didn’t initially want to agree to. Sounds like a win to me,” he says mockingly, parroting Jackson’s words from when Jackson had convinced Isaac to move into his apartment.

Jackson eyes him dubiously.

“Or are you not up to the challenge?” Isaac purrs. “Omegas are notoriously high-maintenance.”

Jackson snarls and stands up, grabbing Isaac and hoisting him up as well, attacking his mouth and backing them into a wall so Isaac has no way to escape him, not that he’s trying. He lifts at Isaac’s hips and Isaac seems to read his mind immediately, wrapping his legs around Jackson’s waist. Jackson manages to get both their shirts off and unbuckle their belts between trying to consume Isaac through his mouth.

“I won’t tolerate,” Isaac begins but Jackson cuts him off.

“You can just shut the fuck up until I find a better use for that nasty little mouth.” Jackson’s eyes glow werewolf blue and Isaac’s gold, and Jackson has a feeling they’re staying that way for the indefinite future. Isaac shuts up.

Jackson takes a couple of steps back, Isaac still attached to him, and carries him into Jackson’s bedroom, mouth on Isaac’s the entire time. He lets them fall backwards at the foot of Jackson’s bed, enjoying the feel of trapping Isaac’s writhing body under his not-inconsiderable body weight. Isaac lets his legs fall open on the bed and Jackson peels himself off, eliciting a satisfyingly distressed noise from Isaac. Jackson yanks at Isaac’s pants and underwear and Isaac straightens his legs to help, and then they are gloriously gone in one smooth motion. Jackson makes quick work of his own as well. He lifts Isaac up closer to the headboard and falls back on him, sucking bruises into his neck and hands possessively wandering every inch of smooth, bare skin he can reach, Isaac moaning and scratching at his back in return. Jackson lets his hand move between Isaac’s legs, is pleased to feel how hard Isaac is, and lets his hand move farther back to his hole, finding it dripping wet and ready for him. He decides he needs to investigate this more directly, it being his first time with an omega, and slides down Isaac’s body, shoving his legs up. 

“Hold your knees to your chest,” he orders. “I want to see you.”

Isaac complies, eyeing him intently. Jackson uses his hands to spread Isaac’s cheeks and reviews his dusky hole. It looks fairly normal, he decides, other than the slick substance leaking out making apparent just how much Isaac wants this. Jackson promptly decides it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen. Isaac keens loudly when Jackson, in the interest of scientific inquiry, decides to turn his visual inspection into an oral one, stabbing his tongue as deep into Isaac’s slick entrance as it will go. Jackson is pleased to note that the pleasant scent he’s come to associate with Isaac is reflected in how he tastes.

“Do you want to come on my mouth? Or my cock?”

“Both,” Isaac moans.

Jackson tuts. “Greedy,” he declares, but redoubles his efforts at sucking at and tonguing Isaac’s hole, using his hand to jerk Isaac off at the same time. Even Isaac’s cock is somehow pretty, the knotless base marking him as an omega among werewolfkind.

Isaac screams when he comes, and releases a rush of pheromones that are the most amazing thing Jackson’s ever scented. Jackson wonders if Isaac is this loud in club bathrooms with strange men, if he has to muffle his cries on his fist, or if Jackson’s actually special in any way.

He’ll prove himself special, he decides. He’s hyper-diligent at everything he does, he can just do the same here. He’ll be so good that Isaac won’t want anyone else.

He slides back up Isaac’s body and kisses him languidly, waiting for him to recover, idly stroking his own cock.

“Still want your knot,” Isaac breathes out.

“You don’t have to,” Jackson says, feeling generous surrounded in the scent of sated omega. “I could just fuck you without knotting you. Or not at all.”

Isaac’s eyes, which must have shifted back to human blue at some point after he came, go back to glowing gold. “I’m an omega,” he says, voice threatening. “I don’t think you understand what that means. I won’t be denied.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. I’m not feeling totally in control of myself at the moment,” Jackson confesses. It’s taken years and years of training himself to where his shifts between wolf and human are near effortless but always, always under his control. As usual, when he’s around Isaac, all that seems to go out the window. He can’t deny he’s still low-key angry too, despite the phenomenal end results – both at Isaac taunting him into sex tonight and at him coming home with another man’s scent on him the night before. Then again, he lives his whole life low-key angry.

It’s Isaac’s turn to slide down Jackson’s body then, and he inspects Jackson’s generously-sized cock, the spongy bulb at the base where his knot will form. “That’ll do nicely,” Isaac says, sounding pleased. He looks up at Jackson, gaze challenging. “I’m not some weak human. You won’t hurt me; I was made for this. Made for you.”

Jackson doesn’t say he’s never been with a human since becoming a werewolf, he suspects Isaac knows anyway. It would be somewhat difficult to hide his werewolf anatomy from a human partner, even if he had been interested in brief hookups, though he understands many male werewolves manage it by keeping their clothes on and only picking up humans drunk or high enough to dismiss any strangeness the next day. He directs Isaac’s head closer to his cock hopefully, and Isaac obediently starts sucking him with enthusiasm, using his hands to stroke what his mouth can’t reach.

Jackson pulls him off when he feels too close to coming, tugs Isaac up to lie beside him and rolls himself to hover on top of Isaac, trapping the other wolf between his forearms. “Hi,” he says, grinning.

“Hi,” Isaac says back. He raises his head to place a surprisingly sweet peck on Jackson’s lips and turns himself over so he’s on his front, placing his right cheek on the pillow and stretching out his long neck, which Jackson promptly sucks another bruise into. Isaac brings his knees under his chest and looks back at him, a little uncertain. “Like this ok?”

Jackson raises Isaac’s hips up so Jackson can get better leverage to fuck him from his hands and knees. “More than ok,” he breathes. “You’re so beautiful like this. Also, all the time.”

Isaac begins to laugh but the sound disappears in a gasp as Jackson lines himself up with Isaac’s entrance and teases his hole with the head of his cock, and then thrusts all the way into him without warning. 

“Harder,” Isaac demands. “Like you fucking mean it. Show me who’s boss.”

Jackson complies but also uses Isaac’s hair to twist his head back painfully, ravaging his mouth with a kiss. “I thought I told you to shut up like a good little omega.”

“M’not good,” Isaac gasps. “Never said I was.”

“You’ll be good for me,” Jackson promises.

Jackson’s hands keep Isaac’s shoulders pressed into the bed, holding him in place, and he lets himself go, since it’s so clearly what Isaac wants, letting his wolf take over the speed and force of his thrusts, not worrying about whether Isaac will be able to walk in the morning. Jackson goes into half-shift as he comes, claws extending dangerously close to Isaac’s neck, knot swelling just inside Isaac’s tight ring to tie them together. Isaac lets out a howl as he comes again, going into half-shift as well in response to Jackson’s shift. Jackson moves his hands down to grip at Isaac’s hips to make sure they don’t pull apart painfully, and, with a gasp, lets them tumble on to their sides, Jackson behind Isaac. He kisses at the back of Isaac’s neck, throwing one arm over his torso to hold him in place, finding Isaac’s hand and intertwining his fingers with Isaac’s own. He slowly lets himself shift back to human as he catches his breath, and feels Isaac do the same. He eyes the rapidly fading bruises on Isaac’s shoulders guiltily, then brushes his lips over them and pretends his kisses make them disappear, rather than Isaac’s werewolf healing.

“So,” he can’t help but ask, a few minutes later. “How did I do?”

Isaac snorts. “Oh, is the omega allowed to talk now?”

Jackson nips at the back of his neck as punishment for his sass. “Yes.”

“And you want a fucking grade?”

“Yes.”

“13,” Isaac says.

“Out of 10?” Jackson asks, pleased.

“No, on a scale from 1 to 18,” Isaac says.

Jackson smacks Isaac’s ass, just under where they’re still joined and Isaac lets out a delicious half-pained noise. “Try again.”

“Pass, on the Stanford system. You’ll need to keep practicing for that Honors.”

Jackson considers this. “So average, but I’m only being compared to top tier?”

Isaac shakes his head. “You are ridiculous.”

“Top tier ridiculous,” Jackson says, even though it doesn’t make much sense. He’s feeling punch drunk from his orgasm and Isaac’s second blast of pheromones.

“Yes, Jackson, you’re my over-achiever,” Isaac says, apparently feeling generous enough from multiple orgasms to coddle Jackson a little. Jackson’s into it. He kisses the back of Isaac’s neck again as a reward.


	8. spoke to me three whole times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luckily, Isaac also seems invested in Jackson passing all his exams; he seems to take far too much pleasure in telling Jackson he only gets a blowjob or Isaac bouncing on his cock after he successfully finishes a practice test, and he’s also very good at giving Jackson a disappointed look and asking if he’s ok leaving his poor omega unattended to just because he’s not willing to put in the work and study.

It’s going to be a miracle if Jackson doesn’t fail out of law school, because now that the sex door has been opened, Isaac is very demanding, and Jackson will be damned if he doesn’t meet every one of his omega’s demands. He’s determined not to give Isaac any reason to find fault with him, even if he does sometimes feel like an on-call stud service – Isaac wants sex at least once every morning, multiple times every night, and often in the middle of the day if they’re both home. He seems determined to christen every surface in the apartment (although never in Isaac’s own room, which he is no longer sleeping in anyway) in every position they can think of. He likes to boss Jackson around, but seems to like even better when Jackson bosses him. Sex is the only time Jackson feels truly confident that Isaac’s heartbeat and pheromones speak truth and also the only time he feels confident playing alpha to Isaac’s omega, because Isaac so clearly likes it when he’s forceful. Jackson’s never been with anyone so shameless about their desires. He both loves it and feels like a bit of a shrinking violet in comparison.

Luckily, Isaac also seems invested in Jackson passing all his exams; he seems to take far too much pleasure in telling Jackson he only gets a blowjob or Isaac bouncing on his cock after he successfully finishes a practice test, and he’s also very good at giving Jackson a disappointed look and asking if he’s ok leaving his poor omega unattended to just because he’s not willing to put in the work and study.

So Jackson studies a lot and takes a lot of practice tests, and self-grades them scrupulously against the sample answers. It feels extra wrong to be generous with himself when sexual favors are on the line, even though he’s pretty sure Isaac would cackle at him if he found out how judicious Jackson is being.

Isaac keeps making him breakfast on exam days, which continues to make Jackson feel like the king of the world. They make it through The Incredible Hulk, Iron Man 2 and Thor, Isaac reluctantly allowing him to be Jacky only for the length of their movie breaks, which Jackson accepts, although he’d rather use Jacky-time outside. Jackson makes it through Civ Pro on Monday, Torts on Wednesday and finally Criminal Law on Friday, and after he passes out from exhaustion on the couch for several hours, Isaac coaxes him into bed for some celebratory sex, not that Jackson needs much coaxing.

Isaac’s smiling idly at the ceiling after. Jackson pokes him. “What are you smiling about?” he demands.

“Mmm, can’t it be about how clever I am, finally getting you to fuck me this week?”

“So… not that?”

Isaac laughs. “It’s stupid.”

“Then I definitely want to know.”

“I just can’t believe I’m in _Jackson Whittemore’s_ bed, and I just got laid by _Jackson Whittemore_.” Isaac lets out a giddy laugh that could arguably be called a giggle.

Jackson smiles at him. “I’m not that cool.”

“Oh _now_ I know you’re not. You’re a huge weirdo. But I had the biggest crush on you in high school. Me and everyone else, I guess.”

“Really,” Jackson asks with interest, deciding to ignore the weirdo comment. “I kind of thought you hated me. Weren’t you totally in Derek’s camp on the kill kanima Jackson plan?”

Isaac’s smile fades. “Yes, and I would apologize for that, but… the kanima killed my father, and I had very complicated feelings about that, and it kept killing other people, and I really wanted to impress Derek with what a cold-hearted badass I was… I’m glad you lived, obviously.”

Jackson forces himself to smile. “You don’t need to apologize, I wanted to die too,” he says, attempting for lightness. “Tried to take myself out on the lacrosse field, remember?”

Isaac looks unhappy. “Yeah, I remember,” he mutters. “I was the first one to say it was a good thing.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be telling me about this huge crush you had on me?” Jackson asks, wanting to steer the conversation back somewhere more positive.

Isaac smiles a little. “It was more earlier, before all the supernatural shit. You were just so handsome, star athlete, straight As, so popular – it seemed like everyone wanted to be you or be with you. And I had the usual loser fantasy that you’d notice me one day and… my whole life would change.”

“I did notice you. You were my next-door neighbor; I saw you all the time. I was just too much of a coward to ever say anything to you.”

“You spoke to me three whole times,” Isaac says, holding up three fingers. “You probably don’t even remember, but I remember every detail,” Isaac brags.

“What did I say?” Jackson asks, smiling.

“When we were in sixth grade, Matt Daehler was my friend for a while, mostly because we both liked comic books. But after he almost drowned at my dad’s pool party for the high school swim team, he completely cut me off. And I didn’t have any other friends, so I was sitting alone at lunch, and you came over and demanded to know where my loser friend was at, why he’d abandoned me. I ran into the bathroom and cried, both because Matt was avoiding me and because you’d finally spoken to me for the first time and been so awful.”

“Sixth grade was a long time before high school,” Jackson interjects. “You liked me then?!” He doesn’t say that he does remember the incident. Jackson recalls Isaac’s eyes had seemed even bigger and bluer when they’d been kids, and Jackson had always felt a slight protectiveness toward his shy, skinny neighbor. He’d been pleased, if a little jealous, that Isaac had finally seemed to have made a friend, and hadn’t meant to be so tactless in demanding to know where the fair-weather friend had abruptly disappeared to. He’s glad in retrospect – Matt had been the first master of the kanima, full of dark desires for vengeance against the people at the pool party who’d let him almost drown, not the kind of person Jackson would have wanted having any influence on Isaac.

“Oh hush,” Isaac says. “I didn’t even know it was a crush at that point. Then eighth grade, my brother Camden had graduated high school and already gotten himself killed in the army, and things with my dad got a lot worse. And you came up to me after school one day and straight up asked if my black eye was from my dad.”

Jackson winces. “I remember that one. You fucking bit my head off about how it wasn’t, and you were just clumsy, and it was none of my goddamn business, but if I was so curious about black eyes, you were more than happy to give me one so people could ask if I’d got it from _my_ dad.”

Isaac smiles wryly. “And you got mad and said you knew I was lying because we were next door neighbors.”

“And you said that meant you knew where I slept and you’d come kill me in the middle of the night if I ever told ‘lies’ about you again.” Jackson shudders. “I realize now that was a cry for help, but you were fucking creepy, Isaac.”

Isaac shrugs, but looks a little smug. “The third time was my favorite. Freshman year of high school. Do you remember?”

Jackson pretends he doesn’t. “Tell me,” he demands.

“You come up to me after school one day, apropos of nothing, and say you’re the star of the lacrosse team, even though you’re just a freshman, and you’re Coach Finstock’s favorite, and he’s already promised you’ll be captain for sophomore year. And I’m just staring at you like, what the fuck, because at that point my crush was massive, but you hadn’t spoken to me in like a year and now here you were bragging about sports like I cared. But then you said there were going to be emergency tryouts because these brothers who’d been on the team were moving away mid-semester, and you’d noticed I was fast in gym class, and I couldn’t possibly be worse than the knucklehead trio of McCall, Stilinski and Greenberg, and basically ordered me to try out. And then you started going on about how it was three hours of practice every day after school, and sometimes extra practice before school, and frequent overnight trips for away games and how I probably didn’t have what it took to make that commitment and be away from home so much.” Isaac eyes Jackson steadily. “Do you remember what else you said?”

Jackson shakes his head mutely. He knows Isaac can tell he’s lying, but Isaac doesn’t call him on it.

“You said Greenberg always changed in the stalls because he was panicked about your best friend Danny maybe looking at him, and then you went on for several minutes about what a loser Greenberg was and how Danny was way out of his league anyway. And you kept going back to how much you were Coach Finstock’s favorite.”

Jackson flushes. “I’m sorry all three instances were such a disaster.”

Isaac leans forward and kisses him. “Don’t apologize. You said exactly the right thing. You didn’t make me feel like a victim or like you were doing me a favor or even act like you were being anything nicer than your usual asshole self. You just made totally clear to me that you could get me on the team, I’d get to spend lots of time away from home, and I didn’t even have to use the locker room to change and let anyone see my bruises. I’d already proven I didn’t react well to the direct approach.” Isaac pauses for a moment to smirk, then continues. “It might have been the best thing anyone had ever done for me,” he says seriously. “My crush got about a hundred times bigger after that, even though you spoke to me zero times once we were on the team together.” Isaac makes a zero with his hand and gives Jackson an exaggerated pouty face that melts Jackson’s heart anyway, because he’s a fool for this man.

“I thought I was so clever,” Jackson mutters. “I thought I’d tricked you into trying out and you had no idea.”

Isaac laughs. “It was clever,” he says indulgently. He sobers a little. “You were a good person, even back then. I wish I’d focused more on your good moments instead of trying to be like Derek and convincing myself I wanted you dead.”

“That’s… generous of you. I don’t know who my best self is, but I certainly wasn’t him as a high schooler. And I don’t blame you, of course you wanted to be like your alpha.”

Isaac shakes his head. “It’s not generous, it’s facts. You tried to protect me when I was no one to you. After I’d literally threatened your life for your trouble.”

Jackson shakes his head back. “I was a fumbling idiot teen making things worse. I should have told someone who could actually help. Or you know, tried actually being nice to you.”

Isaac smirks at him. “We both know I wouldn’t have done well with nice. And if you’d reported my dad I probably would have ended up in foster care, at a different school somewhere, never turned into a werewolf.”

“Wouldn’t that have been better? It doesn’t sound like you’ve had the best werewolf experience.”

“Maybe? I don’t know. But this has been my life since I was fifteen, and a lot of good things happened because I became a werewolf too. I can’t imagine my life without it now. The foster system isn’t great either. Maybe I’d have wound up on the streets with older men trying to take advantage of me anyway.”

Jackson unhappily considers the many dark paths Isaac’s life might have avoided if Jackson had come up with a better solution than bullying Isaac into joining the lacrosse team.

Isaac reaches out and pokes him. “Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Thinking so hard. Beating yourself up so much. I don’t blame you for not saving me from my dad, Jackson, that’s ridiculous. We were kids. Plus, you kind of _did_ , when the kanima killed him.”

“We were teenagers, and I could have done more,” Jackson says, not sure if Isaac understands. “Should have done more.”

“When is that ever not the case?” Isaac asks, sounding far too zen. “Do right by me now. That’s what I care about.”

“Ok,” Jackson whispers. “Are you going to tell me about those older men?”

“Maybe someday,” Isaac whispers back, laying his head on Jackson’s bare chest. “Congrats on completing your first quarter.” Jackson brings a hand up to play with Isaac’s hair, tugging at it like Isaac likes. 


	9. time’s up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s Cody. You attacked my little cousins.”
> 
> Well, fuck. Jackson had known that little incident would come back to bite him, but it had been three weeks since and he’d hoped he’d gotten lucky.

Jackson’s on his way back from his workout the next morning, about to cross the street back to his apartment building, when he hears someone call his name. A tall man materializes out of seemingly nowhere and into Jackson’s way. Correction, tall werewolf. Jackson glances around uneasily but thankfully no one is around. He recognizes the man now as the werewolf bouncer, Jackson thinks his name is Cody, from the nightclub from where he’d first picked up Isaac.

“Your time’s up, Jackson Whittemore,” maybe-Cody says, eyes glowing werewolf gold.

“Do I know you?” Jackson asks coolly.

“It’s Cody. You attacked my little cousins.”

Well, fuck. Jackson had known that little incident would come back to bite him, but it had been three weeks since and he’d hoped he’d gotten lucky.

Jackson holds his hands up to indicate he means no harm. “I didn’t attack them. They stole from my omega.”

“They’re mine,” Cody snarls. “And an attack on me is an attack on my pack. You were invited to meet with my alpha. The invitation is no longer optional.”

“An attack on my omega is an attack on _my_ pack,” Jackson counters. “But I have no interest in starting a war over a couple of kids stealing. They gave the stuff back, so I’m willing to let it go. How about we call it even and go our separate ways.”

“You don’t have a pack,” Cody says, derision clear in his tone. Jackson bristles, even though it’s arguably true. Packless werewolves are not looked upon at all well in werewolf society, the assumption being they’re either useless or evil if they can’t prove themselves worth allowing in any pack. He and Ethan, as teenagers each with the blue eyes of a killer werewolf, had both struggled in London until Ethan had found a pack to accept them. “I’ve watched you. It’s just you and your bitch.”

“Watch your mouth,” Jackson growls. “And you don’t know shit about us.” He’s not happy with himself at all, if Cody really has been watching them without him noticing.

“I did your _omega_ a favor and waited,” Cody says, making clear the word still means bitch, “but it’s Saturday the 16th, and your time’s run out. Honor the terms.”

Jackson blinks, wondering what the fuck he’s talking about.

Cody smirks, clearly picking up on Jackson’s confusion. “He didn’t even tell you.” He laughs. “Go get him then. I’ll be right here.” He grins wolfishly, baring his extended canines at Jackson. “I wouldn’t bother trying to run, but rest assured, I’ll have every wolf in Palo Alto on your tail if you continue to disrespect our pack.”

Jackson glowers at him. He can easily take Cody on his own, and is tempted to do so just for his attitude, but he knows he can’t make an enemy of an entire pack, certainly not one as large as Lily Hamamura’s, which he thinks contains at least a couple dozen werewolves. Jackson strides away from Cody across the street without answering, wondering how he should kill Isaac.

Isaac’s still asleep in Jackson’s bed, mouth slightly open and drooling a bit on his pillow, a sight that usually fills Jackson with fondness, but not so much today. He wraps his hand in Isaac’s hair and yanks him to a sitting upright position. Isaac wakes up with a gasp. “Jackson, what the fuck?!”

Jackson pulls Isaac’s head back, baring his neck. “Did you, by any chance, make some kind of deal with some werewolf named Cody?” Jackson asks, words half lost in his growl. He’s half-shifted at some point without thinking about it; his hard-won control tenuous again thanks to Isaac.

“I can explain,” Isaac says quickly. “Maybe let go of me…?”

Jackson pulls Isaac’s head back a little farther. 

“Or not,” Isaac gasps. “He’s the werewolf cousin to those little thieves. I noticed him watching me a couple of times over the past few weeks, and I got tired of it and approached him a couple of days before your Jacky incident. It’s actually what inspired me when I was trying to get you to shift back from Jacky too.”

“You what?” Jackson cries, letting go of Isaac’s hair. “What the fuck were you thinking, Isaac? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Isaac staggers off the bed and crumples, kneeling naked on the floor in front of Jackson. Jackson can’t deny it’s making him bristle a little less. “He didn’t seem that threatening,” Isaac says meekly, “I thought I could handle him. And I did! He didn’t hurt me. He just demanded we meet with his pack at their alpha’s house, sort out the insults, you know.”

“Sort out the insults?!”

“I told him his cousins insulted you by stealing from me.”

“That is not your place,” Jackson growls, despite having told Cody something very similar. 

Isaac raises an eyebrow, apparently already ready to test Jackson again. “Yes, it is,” he says firmly. “I’ve been an omega for six years, I’m familiar with the etiquette.”

Jackson glowers at him. “You should have discussed it with me. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to have some strange werewolf come up and tell me I’ve made some deal, and then he realizes not only did my omega do it without consulting me, but didn’t even tell me?!”

“I’m _sorry_. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. But I had to come up with something, you weren’t there. And before you tell me I should have waited till you were, you were very stressed and preoccupied, and more importantly, there wasn’t any way we were going to be able to avoid their pack forever. There’s way more of them than there are of us. I told him we’d go see them today, after your finals were done, and he reluctantly agreed. I meant to tell you last night, but we got distracted.”

“And that seemed like a good idea to you? Go right into their den where they have the power of numbers and it’s their home turf?”

“Of course not. But we already live in their territory. We wound up where we would have wound up, but at a better time, so you can just get off your high horse.”

“You kept this from me for over a week.”

“I did,” Isaac says calmly. “I didn’t want to distract you. I’m allowed to protect you too.”

“No, you aren’t! Who told you that?”

Isaac gives him a withering look. “I don’t need anyone to give me permission.” He looks away, and adds in a mutter, “besides, a meeting might not be the worst idea for you.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You seem like you need an alpha’s guidance sometimes,” Isaac says, sounding reluctant.

Jackson feels the words like a stab to the gut. How had he been so stupid? How had he actually thought they were doing well, him and Isaac _against the world_ , when Isaac had apparently spent the whole time thinking Jackson was incapable of handling himself, needed some strange alpha to tell him what to do? “Get dressed,” he hisses. “I’m taking a shower.”

Isaac stands and runs out the room before Jackson can change his mind. Jackson forces himself not to slam the doors to the bathroom and shower stall, knowing he’ll just break them.

He emerges from a long (because fuck Cody and fuck Isaac) shower slightly calmer from the hot water beating down on him. Isaac’s laid out clothes for him on the bed. Jackson recognizes them as his own but can’t recall having worn them recently; they’re nicer athletic wear in dark maroon and black, suitable to fight in, and they showcase his broad chest and shoulders, his powerful thighs. He feels a bit like a Ken doll for wearing what was laid out for him, and has half a mind not to wear them on principle, but he can’t actually find fault with Isaac’s choices, and he does love looking good.

When Jackson emerges into the living room, he sees Isaac has showered as well, is dressed in a white button down of Jackson’s and dark blue jeans that accentuate his long legs. “Not expecting _you’re_ going to have to fight anyone on this appointment you made for us, then?” Jackson asks with a sneer.

“Of course not,” Isaac says coolly. “That would mean you’d lost.” He stands and walks to the entryway closet, rifling through before producing a dark gray bomber jacket and sneakers that he hands to Jackson. Isaac pulls a scarf and brown blazer and casual oxford shoes on himself. Isaac never dresses like this (other than the scarves, he loves scarves), he looks expensive and impractical, the image of a pampered omega pet. Jackson’s not sure whether it’s ironic or appropriate that almost everything Isaac’s wearing actually belongs to Jackson. The only descriptive phrase he can come up with for his own appearance is hired muscle, although that probably has more to do with his dour mood.

Isaac reaches out and adjusts the collar of Jackson’s jacket. “We’re in the right,” Isaac says quickly. “Unless she just wants to kill us for no reason, this is just an excuse to strongarm us into a meeting. My guess is she wants us to audition. You especially.”

Jackson crosses his arms over his chest unhappily. Isaac’s almost certainly right. “And you thought making me parade around and be inspected was a good idea.”

“Because it was unavoidable. You still have more than two and a half years of law school in Palo Alto to get through. But you’re bound to impress them, if you don’t hold back too much. It’s not like they can force us to join if you don’t want to. And if they see you’re something to be afraid of, and you say no, they’ll think twice about bothering us in the future,” Isaac says, clearly attempting a soothing tone. Jackson hates that it’s working.

“I was under the impression joining up with a pack was the last thing you wanted.”

“It was,” Isaac says steadily.

“But?”

“But we’re going to go, and be polite, and hear them out, ok? But that’s it.”

“Because you think I need an alpha, because I can’t control myself.” Jackson can’t keep the misery out of his voice.

Isaac reaches out to stroke the side of Jackson’s face with surprising tenderness. “I’m on your side. You and me, remember? I’m just on your side. Nothing has to happen that we don’t decide on.”

Jackson reaches up to put his hand over Isaac’s on his face, squeezing a little before letting go. “Ok,” he says with a sigh, somewhat mollified. “Let’s go.”

Cody smirks at them when they reappear downstairs. “Aren’t you cute.” Jackson doesn’t like the way he looks Isaac up and down, but Isaac just smiles pleasantly and takes it in as his due. Cody walks them to an Escalade that he doesn’t look like he can afford and opens the door behind the driver, gesturing to Isaac to enter. Jackson walks around to the other side and slides in beside Isaac. Isaac reaches out a hand to grasp Jackson’s and they ride in silence to a huge house on a beautiful tree-lined street. Jackson has to imagine it’s valued at several million, given how expensive Palo Alto is, and wonders how exactly a werewolf pack affords a place like this. He remembers the burned-out husk of the Hale house and the abandoned subway station Derek had briefly claimed as his pack headquarters.

The house is even more impressive on the inside, Cody leading them to the glass back wall where an open-concept kitchen-dining-living area looks out on to an expansive back patio and an even more expansive backlot set up with trees and what he can only describe as an adult jungle gym, where a group of a couple dozen young werewolves are half-shifted, training and playing with each other, the sounds of their shouts and laughter floating back through the open French doors. Jackson immediately resolves to own a house like this one day, complete with jungle gym. He idly wonders how Isaac feels about adopting a couple of puppies, or even some little werewolves someday. Part of him itches to go out and join the others, it’s been so long since he’s had the opportunity to train with his own kind. Outings to the woods with his London pack had been the highlights of his weeks; he’d loved being able to enjoy his physical strength and athleticism with his packmates in the natural playground without worrying about his day-to-day concerns, and hadn’t really understood some of the others’ complaints about mandatory training getting in the way of their weekends and being bruised and sore for days after.

He feels Isaac’s hand on his arm, and can practically hear Isaac telling him to be wary, that these aren’t his pack, just strangers, albeit in a seemingly idyllic environment. He glances at Isaac in surprise, unaware omega pheromones could be so direct. Isaac just gives him a beautiful smile, although his eyes tell a different story.

“What a lovely home you have,” Isaac says, and Jackson turns to see they’ve been joined by a tall, stately Asian woman and Sinqua, the alpha’s second from the nightclub. 

“Thank you,” the woman says, smiling. “I’m Lily Hamamura, alpha of this pack, and I believe you’ve met my second, Sinqua.”

“Jackson Whittemore,” Jackson says, shaking both their hands. “And this is my omega, Isaac Lahey.” He notes they don’t try to shake Isaac’s hand, although they nod at him politely. Jackson can’t place how old the woman is, she looks to be in her 50s, but with how werewolves age, could be well into her 100s. Something about her puts him at ease, although he suspects she could kick his ass if she wanted to.

“Thank you for coming to meet us,” Lily says, “it’s long overdue.” There’s a hint of scolding in her voice. “I’ve had breakfast prepared,” she says, gesturing toward a buffet table where an impressive breakfast spread is laid out, enough options even for Jackson’s exacting requirements. “I hope you’ll find something to your liking, please, help yourself. Do you like to cook, Mr. Lahey?”

“Sometimes,” Isaac says sweetly. “Jackson’s very picky, but he likes breakfast.”

Jackson suppresses a snort at both statements. “I like breakfast,” he agrees, mostly to say something. “It’s the optimistic meal. The day’s ahead of you.”

Isaac looks like he is desperately holding back laughter at Jackson’s attempt at small talk. Jackson frowns at him.

“Quite,” Lily says agreeably. Sinqua raises a dubious eyebrow at Jackson when Lily’s back is turned and Cody just glares.

They make plates for themselves and take seats at the breakfast table, Jackson noting with amusement that Isaac limits himself, looking a little sad to not be trying one of absolutely everything.

They chat amicably for a while, Isaac and Lily thankfully carrying most of the conversation. Lily asks about what they’re studying in school and Isaac claims to be interested in the veterinary field, which is news to Jackson. Isaac also shamelessly brags about Jackson’s schooling, much to Jackson’s embarrassment. Cody maturely sticks his tongue out at them, which Sinqua smacks him for, before Lily turns to her betas, who promptly pretend to be the epitome of gracious hosts.

“Shall we discuss the matter at hand?” Lily asks, when they’re done eating and have cleared the table. “I understand Cody’s young cousins stole from Mr. Lahey.”

“They did,” Jackson says. 

“And what would you demand for satisfaction?”

Jackson considers pretending he wants something just so he has some bargaining power when she claims to need satisfaction for his behavior in return, but it feels too dishonest. He’s clearly going to struggle as a lawyer. “Nothing? They’re just kids. We already got the stolen items back. Are they even members of your pack?”

Lily eyes him appraisingly. “That’s very generous of you,” she says finally. “And not yet, but we were to offer them the gift upon their turning eighteen.” She gives Cody a stern look and adds, “If they’re on the right track at the time.”

The stern look turns to Jackson and her tone turns several tones sterner. “Just so we’re clear, all of Palo Alto and a lot of the surrounding areas are my pack’s territory. Now, it’s a college campus, people come and go, so other werewolves are welcome here, so long as they don’t make our kind look bad, cause the hunters to turn against us, or do _stupid_ things that could expose us to be dragged away as lab experiments.”

Jackson swallows. “Yes, ma’am.” Isaac looks like Jackson imagines he must have when his older brother had gotten in trouble for something he’d done – both guilty and featuring a bit of wild-eyed glee that he’s getting away with it.

“Do I need to tell you what stupid things you did?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Well, since you haven’t yet proven your lack of stupidity, so we’re crystal clear, it is _stupid_ to use the gift to try and engage in vigilante justice. We have allies on the police force. Call us next time you need a favor. It is even more _stupid_ and _selfish_ to expose yourselves to unknown humans in the process of enacting said vigilante justice. Not to mention, I’d say unethical to threaten children that way. I have to wonder if my alma mater hasn’t lowered its admissions standards too much.”

“You’re right,” Jackson says, feeling appropriately scolded and deciding mea culpa is his best way out of this. “I was being stupid. And selfish. And unethical. And I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. You shouldn’t have had to tell me.”

Lily nods, looking satisfied. “Apology accepted. I appreciate someone that can own up to their mistakes.” She smiles suddenly. “Now, I’ve noticed you eyeing my little playground. Would you like to try it out, perhaps spar with some of my betas? No killing or long-term maiming from either side, of course.”

Jackson really wants to glance at Isaac to see what he thinks, but knows he can’t display that kind of insecurity in front of this alpha. Perhaps she senses it anyway, because she turns to Isaac instead. “What do you think, Mr. Lahey?”

“Jackson would love to try out your playground. He lives for that American Ninja Warrior stuff. He wakes up at 5 a.m. every morning, even on the weekends,” Isaac says conspiratorially. “And trains till 8. It’s such an effort sometimes to coax him to stay in bed with me.” He laughs, and Lily laughs as well. “Do we have your word any facts or abilities you learn about stay absolutely private?” he asks, smiling sweetly. Jackson thinks he can hear a bit of an edge in Isaac’s voice.

“You have my word.” Her heartbeat rings true.

Jackson decides to trust her. Also, he really wants to try out the jungle gym. “Ok,” he says. Audition time it is, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jackson’s line about breakfast being the "the optimistic meal" because the day’s ahead of you is borrowed from a great TV show called Patriot.


	10. If he gets the advantage on you, he wins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But he can’t delay any longer. “Anyone want to spar with me?” he asks the pack loudly, all homecoming king smile. He looks at Cody, who roars and runs at him in half shift.

Lily leads them out onto the patio and calls to her betas to clear the playground so their guest can warm up. Isaac walks Jackson a little farther out and kisses him fiercely. “Go get me that Honors,” he breathes.

Jackson spends a few minutes trying the various equipment out, trying to get a feel for distances and heights. He thinks he could happily spend hours here, which is no doubt why Lily had it installed, if she’s recruiting so many young werewolves. But it’s not that much fun doing it with a crowd watching and talking amongst themselves. He’s nervous about sparring with any of these werewolves, he gets practice sparring with humans at the boxing gym sometimes, but he always has to hold back and it’s just not the same as practicing against other werewolves, which he hasn’t had the opportunity to do since London. He hopes he’s not too rusty. Maybe he’ll start making Isaac practice with him, although he suspects he’d find it too difficult to fight his omega. But he can’t delay any longer. “Anyone want to spar with me?” he asks the pack loudly, all homecoming king smile. He looks at Cody, who roars and runs at him in half shift. Jackson side-steps and flips him to the ground at the last minute and puts a foot lightly on his neck. “Next?”

Cody growls and gets back up, swiping at Jackson with his claws. Jackson blocks him with an arm and uses it to shove him back against a handily placed pole. 

“That’s enough, Cody,” Lily calls. “Our guest said next. If he gets the advantage on you, he wins.”

Cody growls but obeys his alpha, moving to the back of the crowd of betas. A woman comes forward, and Jackson dispatches with her quickly, as well as a couple others, without even going into half-shift. They seem inexperienced, their abilities perhaps new or never trained. The next few that come up are more challenging, forcing him into half-shift. There are a few gasps and some whispering at his werewolf eyes glowing blue. He can hear the word “killer” being thrown about and determinedly ignores it. Jackson suspects that, other than Cody, who’d clearly called dibs on first, they’re coming at him in order of pack hierarchy. At some point Lily starts directing who goes next, perhaps skipping members to save on time, or to see how Jackson reacts to different styles and moves.

Luckily, his London pack had been an eclectic mix of werewolves from different backgrounds, and Jackson had been relentless and shameless about demanding each packmate train him on whatever skills of theirs he fancied. Most agreed when they saw how diligent he was about learning and practicing with the others, and his willingness to patiently pay it forward to less-experienced packmates.

A blond woman Lily calls Gage comes up. Jackson recognizes Gage as the female smoker from the nightclub. She turns out to be a truly skilled and vicious fighter, unafraid to play dirty, the biggest challenge yet. Jackson narrowly wins, shoving her face first into a tree and holding his claws to her throat after several rounds of near misses on both sides.

“Well,” Lily says, “Sinqua?”

Jackson glances at Sinqua, who’s glowering at him, and back at Lily. “I don’t think I should take down your second today,” Jackson says. It’s one thing to take down random betas, but taking down an alpha’s second is a serious matter, and he doesn’t think it’s a good idea to do it if he’s not sure about joining her pack. It would upset the pack’s dynamics unnecessarily and probably wouldn’t win him any popularity with her betas, who are presumably loyal to their alpha’s second as well as her. Also, Sinqua and Lily are the only ones here who he’s truly been worried about being able to defeat in a fight.

“As if,” Sinqua says, rolling his eyes.

“Very well,” Lily says. “Come into my study, let’s talk.”

Isaac throws his arms around Jackson as he moves to follow her. “You were brilliant,” he whispers. “And really hot. I can’t wait to fuck you later.” Jackson wonders if the entire pack heard but decides he doesn’t care, smirking smugly and wrapping an arm around Isaac’s waist as they walk.

Lily leads them to her study and waves them in. Sinqua and Gage are the only pack members still with them but she leaves them outside. “Soundproofed against even werewolf hearing,” Lily says with a smile, after she shuts the door to the study.

At Lily’s gesture, they all take seats, Jackson and Isaac across from Lily.

“Well, Mr. Whittemore. You’re very impressive. Not everyone from my pack was here today, but taking down Gage is no easy task,” Lily says. 

Jackson gives a small nod of acknowledgment.

“May I ask how you got the eyes?”

“It wasn’t intentional,” he says evasively. Luckily, she doesn’t prod.

“Are hunters after you?”

“There’s always hunters after werewolves.” The kind of hunters that go after bounties, instead of strictly following a hunter code, always get more for a blue-eyed werewolf, and while the werewolf community and their allies have suppressed the worst of Monroe’s codeless hunter army over the last several years, there are still many rogue hunters out there.

“Anyone in particular?” she presses.

“Not that I know of.”

“Do you intend to kill again?”

“No. But I will if I need to.”

“Do you have questions for me?”

He has a lot, starting with where and how he can purchase an exquisite mansion with a werewolf playground in the backyard. “How do you afford this place?” is probably not the best first question, but it’s what comes out.

She smiles. “You can accumulate some wealth with age. I suspect I’m quite a bit older than you. And being headquartered in Palo Alto, many of our alums are Stanford alums as well, and they like to give back to the pack that nurtured them in their formative years.” She considers. “The non-Stanford alums give back as well,” she adds, in the tone of someone who must frequently be reminded there’s schools other than Stanford.

Jackson raises an eyebrow. “So you don’t do permanent members?”

“Of course we do. It’s up to each member. Some stay here for life. Others leave but always stay connected. Others leave and join or form their own packs. But they almost all retain positive alliances with us.”

Jackson nods. He can’t deny the appeal of having at least a foster pack for the next couple of years, one with wealth and resources and a network of alumni. Lily makes it sound more like a Stanford secret society than a werewolf pack and Jackson’s not above the appeal of that. And he’d forgotten how much he’d enjoyed training with other betas.

“You’re obviously very skilled at fighting. And you appear to be a diligent and ambitious young man, at least if half of what your omega brags about you is true.”

“I have plenty more to brag about,” Isaac chimes in, putting a hand on Jackson’s arm. Jackson feels messages of calm and encouragement coming at him through the touch.

Lily smiles at them. “Frankly, Mr. Whittemore, I could use a young man like you in my pack’s leadership. It’s a large pack that keeps growing as young werewolves move into our territory, and several of my betas are in dire need of training and mentorship that we don’t have enough more-skilled werewolves to currently provide. They need to better understand how our community operates, what the threats are, how to defend ourselves, how to work together. I consider us very strong, but there’s always room here for more good people. And I want to be clear – we want good people. I’m not looking for the most efficient killer, even if that’s a nice bonus. I’m looking for werewolves who know when to forgive, when to admit fault, how hard to fight, when to put a stop to things. How to work hard. How to treat their mate. All traits you’ve demonstrated today and since August, per my pack’s reports.”

Jackson thinks she’s laying it on a bit thick, but blushes at the unexpected praise, and then at not having realized at least some of the werewolves he’d seen in passing had been surveilling him. He nods slowly. He loves the sound of it, having a pack that truly wants him, that he can be part of leading, where he can mentor younger werewolves and maybe stop them from winding up in the kind of supernatural trouble he and Isaac and Ethan and so many others had – it sounds too good to be true, in fact. “What you’re describing does appeal to me,” he admits. “But what about Isaac?”

“He comes with you, of course. A package deal.”

“And what do you see as the role of an omega?”

“They’re incredible assets to packs. We’d be delighted to have one again, it’s been a long time.”

“Assets how?”

“Using their unique omega skills, of course.”

“He’s not going to be your sex toy or your maid or your punching bag,” Jackson warns.

“Why should he be?”

“You said omega skills.”

Lily turns to smile at Isaac. “Mr. Lahey? Are there better skills you bring to the table than Mr. Whittemore can think of?”

“Why don’t you just tell us,” Isaac says, a little sharp. Jackson decides to pretend it’s in Jackson’s defense.

Lily raises a brow. “In my view, an omega’s greatest skill is as an empath. They pick up easily on the feelings and emotions of others. Omegas can use that to manipulate, but they can also help others work through their thoughts and emotions and come out stronger the other side. They have a strong ability to influence others’ feelings directly using their pheromones, with enough practice they can influence their entire pack to act as one, heightening their pack’s bonds of love, their protective instincts, their righteous anger. Their non-verbal communication skills are excellent, as I believe you’ve demonstrated to Mr. Whittemore a few times today.”

Isaac yanks his hand back from Jackson’s arm as if burned. Jackson glances at Isaac, but his face is unreadable, projecting cold nothing for several long moments.

“You want me to do that for you? For your pack?” Isaac asks finally.

“If you’d be willing, yes.”

“Huh,” Isaac says. “I guess I’ve never really used my powers for good.”

Lily smiles at him. She seems to do that a lot. “You’d be surprised how often I hear that, although not in so many words. But it can be quite rewarding, using your powers for good.”

“And I’m getting a free ticket because Jackson just beat your third? Gage?” Isaac guesses.

“Yes,” Lily says lightly. “Along with all the other reasons I just said we wanted Jackson.”

Jackson bites his lip. He’d suspected Gage was a high-ranking member of the pack, but not Lily’s third. He’s already messing with this pack’s dynamics too much.

“I defer to Jackson, obviously,” Isaac says, “but if we do join your pack, and I’m not saying we will, I’d want you to consider me on my own merits. I’m afraid I don’t have Jackson’s impressive resume, but I have stolen his Stanford Law hoodie.” Isaac smiles winningly. Jackson wants to tell him he’s not as cute as he thinks, but he’d be lying. “Can you come up with an omega audition?”

Lily looks at Jackson. “Quite the independent one you have here.”

“Yeah,” Jackson agrees, looking over at Isaac proudly.

“Yes,” she says to Isaac. “I can come up with something.”

“I can fight too,” Isaac adds. “If you want me to do a Jackson-style audition. He’ll be thrilled to have an excuse to make me practice with him.”

“I suspect you’ve had to fight for every moment of your life. But isn’t it nice, not to have to?”

Isaac favors Jackson with a small, warm smile. “Yeah. It’s nice.”

Lily makes them promise to come back the following Saturday for a second meet and greet and audition, and then has Sinqua summon a sulky Cody to drive them back home. 

“Mr. Whittemore, will you stay behind for a moment?” Jackson looks up in surprise, glancing at Isaac before he can stop himself. Isaac covers for him by immediately demanding the betas give him a tour of the house, which Jackson is a little sad to be missing out on, simply as an appreciator of fine real estate.

“I don’t mean this as an insult, Mr. Whittemore, but you are clearly new to having an omega,” Lily says, after the others have cleared out. “And Mr. Lahey seems like quite the handful, although obviously very taken with you.”

“We’re fine,” Jackson says stiffly. “Great, actually.” He’d thought Isaac had done fantastic, if his intent had been to make the Hamamura Pack believe they had a very traditional and very serious relationship, rather than one that consisted of a week’s worth of between-exam fucking and a couple heartfelt conversations.

“He clearly is very aware of how he’s expected to present himself in werewolf society. Although I hope you will both be a little more relaxed around us eventually.”

Jackson doesn’t answer, not sure what the point of this is.

“But one of the few omega myths that’s actually true – they always go for alphas.”

Jackson bristles. “I’m not letting you, or any other alpha, take him. _I’m_ the best person for him, alpha or not. And I’m happy to spill some blood proving it.”

“Because your ability to spill blood is what makes you best for him?” Lily asks lightly.

Jackson blanches. “No,” he mutters.

“I can see that you’re a very ambitious young man, Mr. Whittemore. You have the potential to be an alpha, which Mr. Lahey has obviously picked up on, and I expect someday you will be. I just wanted to make sure you understood that joining a pack doesn’t mean foreclosing that possibility, and that joining a pack doesn’t mean giving up your omega to an alpha. It just means giving yourselves a few more years to learn a couple more things.”

Jackson nods somberly. The last thing he had expected was for Isaac to have been right that Jackson could use some alpha guidance in his life. He sighs internally as he realizes he owes Isaac an apology, thinking guiltily about yanking him about by the hair like some caveman that morning. Against all his expectations, he can actually see himself here in this beautiful house, training with a large group of betas, perhaps even a part of pack leadership. He’d liked some of the London pack well enough, but he hadn’t gotten along with the pack’s alpha, a grumpy old man named Oliver Clarke, and had always felt on the periphery there. Even though the others acknowledged his skills, they never acknowledged him as truly one of them, whether due to his lack of approval from the alpha, prickly personality, refusal to act less American, or killer blue eyes. And most of the McCall Pack hated him, and with good reason. Maybe it would be better to start fresh, in this place that seems too good to be true. Maybe it was finally time that the universe had something good to offer Jackson and Isaac.

***

“Will you teach me some of your tricks, if you join us?” Gage asks Jackson as the betas are walking them out.

Jackson blinks in surprise. “Yeah. If things work out.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Isaac mutters, shooting Gage a dirty look.

Isaac’s on Jackson the moment they’re in the car, attempting to suck his face off as Cody scowls and tells them to knock it off. “Can I suck you off?” Isaac whispers into Jackson’s ear. Cody can undoubtedly hear anyway, being a werewolf.

Jackson considers it, but he doesn’t want to give Cody any more reason to hate them. Or worse, ammunition for his spank bank. “Be good,” he murmurs, shoving Isaac away gently. Isaac pouts but backs off, although he reaches out a hand to idly stroke the skin of Jackson’s waist where his shirt has ridden up. Jackson can sense Isaac’s messages through his touch again – lust, pride, possessiveness, impatience.

Cody seems thrilled to be rid of them when they arrive at their apartment building, driving off with the barest of goodbyes. A large group gets on the elevator with them at the last minute, chattering loudly and making the ride up seem interminably long. Isaac keeps glancing at Jackson like he’s going to explode, and Jackson isn’t sure how everyone in the elevator isn’t fucking like bunnies with how many lust pheromones Isaac’s leaking, although he can tell from how some of them are pulling at their collars that the humans subconsciously pick up on it.

Isaac shoves Jackson against their front door as soon as they step inside, dropping to his knees in front of him and pulling Jackson’s cock out of his joggers before promptly swallowing it down professionally. Jackson’s done for embarrassingly quickly but he just pulls Isaac up and drags him into Jackson’s bedroom, confident his werewolf refractory period will allow for a second round shortly.

Jackson decides to eschew his usual displays of brute force that Isaac likes so much, gently hushing Isaac every time he opens his mouth to complain, spreading him out like a buffet and taking his time caressing and kissing every part of his lover’s body. He wants this to be an apology but also a new start for them. A promise that Jackson can be more, can be everything Isaac doesn’t even know he wants and needs. Isaac stops protesting at some point and goes quiet, just lets Jackson have his way with him in the late-afternoon sunlight filtering through the partially open blinds, gasping out his pleasure as Jackson worships between his legs and brings him to orgasm after orgasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have guessed, Lily, Sinqua, Gage and Cody are named after killed-off actors from Teen Wolf for my amusement, but they’re not meant to be them.


	11. I can be a perfect omega

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac looks annoyed. “I was acting like myself, it’s just an omega public face thing. It’s important that they take us seriously as a couple, or they might have tried to separate us.”

“I didn’t know you could be like that,” Isaac says, looking at the ceiling, sounding blissfully fucked out.

“More my usual speed, honestly,” Jackson admits. Both Ethan and Lydia had teased him on occasion about being the secret romantic of the couple.

Isaac turns to him, looking surprised. “Really? I thought you were all about the hair-pulling and fucking me like a bitch,” he purrs. “Do you not like that?”

Jackson blushes. “I like that too. And you do too. Right?”

“Definitely,” Isaac agrees, eyes hot. “But this was nice. Different. Does this mean you forgive me?”

“What am I supposed to be forgiving you for?”

“Setting the meeting up without asking you. Not telling you for a week. Embarrassing you in front of Cody. And getting you in trouble with Alpha Hamamura over my stupid TV and laptop in the first place.”

“It was a good meeting. Better than I expected. I wish you’d been honest with me from the beginning, but I’m not upset the meeting happened. And I made my own stupid decisions on the vigilante justice front.”

Isaac looks a bit ashamed at that. “You didn’t really,” he admits. “I was pumping pheromones at you hard, to make you want to protect me and help me. Using my powers for evil, as usual.”

Jackson shakes his head. “It wasn’t evil. And I’m not completely blind to when you’re trying to manipulate me, you know, I usually notice and just go along with it anyway. I like protecting you. It feels good. Right.”

“Oh,” Isaac says, biting his lip. “It was a good meeting,” he agrees. “I wasn’t expecting it either. I don’t know if I can trust an alpha again, but she makes me want to. What do you think about them?”

Jackson sighs. “I don’t know. We’ll go see them again next week, I guess, see how things go. See if there’s dark secrets hiding under the too good to be true cover.”

Isaac sighs back and nods. “I guess that’s all we can do.”

“Yeah,” Jackson says. “Does this mean you forgive me?”

Isaac looks at him in surprise. “For what?”

“Acting like a caveman this morning.”

“Didn’t we just establish that’s a huge turn on for me?”

Jackson frowns at him. “There’s a difference between doing it during sex and during our regular lives, though.”

Isaac shrugs. “We’re werewolves, our dynamic is part of our regular lives. You’re overthinking this. I didn’t really mind, and I get why you were upset your omega made important decisions without you. I would have been surprised if you hadn’t reacted that way. You made it clear I’m supposed to fight back if you’re actually scaring or hurting me, and I fully intend to do that, but you didn’t scare me.”

“Maybe you’re underthinking this! But you didn’t seem scared today,” Jackson admits reluctantly. “Played the apologetic sub for a whole minute before you were back to sassing me,” he adds wryly.

Isaac smirks at him.

“Speaking of, mind telling me who that was today?”

“What do you mean?” Isaac asks.

“You know, the whole perfect omega routine for the Hamamura pack. I don’t think that’s the guy I’ve gotten to know the last few weeks.”

Isaac shrugs. “I can be a perfect omega. I wouldn’t ever make you look bad in front of some strange wolves, it would reflect badly on both of us. The thing with Cody was an accident.”

“Would just… acting like yourself make us look bad?”

Isaac looks annoyed. “I was acting like myself, it’s just an omega public face thing. It’s important that they take us seriously as a couple, or they might have tried to separate us.”

“I wouldn’t let them,” Jackson says seriously. “No matter what you were acting like. So you can act however you want.”

“Let me put it another way,” Isaac challenges. “If I was sassing you in front of them, would you yank me up by the hair and fuck me over their breakfast table?”

“No! What the fuck, that’s private. Maybe I’d do that when we were alone later, if you’d pissed me off.”

“I’ve had alphas who wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But exactly. The way I am around you when it’s just the two of us, arguing with you about any and everything, that’s private too.”

“That is not at all the same.”

Isaac rolls his eyes. “Don’t act like you didn’t fucking love having a sweet omega gushing about how wonderful you were the whole time.”

Jackson flushes. “No, since you were just pretending.”

Isaac laughs. “I didn’t say anything that I don’t believe. It’s just a different side of me. And it’s not like I didn’t express any opinions of my own.”

“Oh,” Jackson says, feeling warmed but unsure how to respond. He’s still not comfortable with it.

“Consider it one of my rules, if it bothers you,” Isaac says with a shrug. “United front in front of other wolves, in which all I do is support you. Because I _do_ , you know. You and me against the world means we don’t let anyone think there’s any room to drive a wedge between us, we’re the perfect not-yet-alpha and omega couple. If I wasn’t deferential, it would suggest I didn’t respect you, wasn’t happy with you. That I was open to someone else making a move on me. And you need to stop looking at me for approval all the time, it’s ruining the effect.”

Jackson crosses his arms. “I’m pretty sure normal couples are supposed to make decisions together,” he says sulkily. He also doesn’t know how he feels about his omega basically ordering him to be more alpha-like, surely there’s something fucked up about that.

“We’re not normal. But we do that too. Next time we’ll talk about stuff more in advance so you’re not trying to guess what I’m all right with, ok?”

“Ok,” Jackson says. He pauses. “Is that really how you think of me? Not-yet-alpha? That’s what Lily said too, when she held me back. She just wanted to tell me joining a pack didn’t mean I could never be an alpha. Didn’t mean giving you up.”

Isaac blinks. “Well, duh. Did you not know? What the fuck did you think I was doing here?”

Jackson shrugs. “You needed someone to protect you and I’m strong enough to do it. And you don’t trust alphas and packs. So I’m your stopgap measure until you figure something out.” Jackson attempts to sound neutral, but the harsh truth has been eating at him and he can’t keep the melancholy out of his voice.

Isaac reaches out and grasps his chin, forces him to look into Isaac’s too-close eyes. “Are you being serious right now? If you thought you were a stopgap measure, what the fuck are _you_ doing here?”

Jackson just looks at him miserably.

“You deserve better than to be anybody’s stopgap measure. Definitely mine. I don’t trust alphas but you _are_ one, or I wouldn’t gravitate toward you. Maybe we didn’t start off knowing what we were doing, but I’m in this, ok?”

“It’s just,” Jackson says, “it’s just, you made it clear that you wanted to be free to see other people, and you’ve been going out late a lot…”

Isaac stares at him. “I bartend, Jackson. Which you know, because you’re a creepy stalker. I haven’t seen anyone else since moving in here, other than that one night.”

“Oh,” Jackson says, blushing. This had somehow not occurred to him as a possibility. He suddenly feels about two hundred times lighter.

“Is that why you kept turning me down?” Isaac asks incredulously.

Jackson shrugs awkwardly.

Isaac sighs. “It’s fine, I suppose I did make a point of asking you about it before coming here, because if I stopped seeing other people, I wanted it to be on my terms and not yours. Guess I’m not a master of communication either.But _you_ made it clear that you were the monogamous type, so I was fully intending on giving that a shot. And you’ve been keeping me more than satisfied so far.” He smirks and Jackson’s blush deepens.

***

They eventually leave bed for Jackson-made dinner and another movie on the couch – Captain America: The First Avenger is up next. Jackson sheds a small tear for the failure of the main character, Steve, to make his dancing date happen with his love interest before he’s frozen in ice until 2011 and it’s too late. Which reminds him he really needs to step up his game and take Isaac out on a proper date soon, now that Jackson’s somewhat less of an anxious wreck. Isaac deserves better than Netflix and chill.

They fall back into bed after, and Jackson feels more relaxed than he has in months, fucking Isaac like he has all the time in the world, which for once, it seems like he does. Every time Isaac complains to him to go faster he punishes him by slowing down more until Isaac learns his lesson and stops making demands. As much as he likes bossy, demanding Isaac, he’s in the mood for quiet, pliant Isaac tonight. “Good omega,” he praises in a murmur, languidly fucking him for a while longer before increasing the speed and force of his thrusts enough to take them both over the edge.

Jackson curls up around Isaac after, idly circling one of Isaac’s nipples with a finger. “Do you really want to go into the veterinary field?” he asks curiously.

Isaac laughs. “I don’t know. I’ve thought about it. It’s a lot of work, and it doesn’t pay that much; it’s just something to say. Scott wanted to do it, so I kind of latched on to the idea, maybe. The empath thing Alpha Hamamura said was kind of interesting. I’m in this trauma support group counseling thing that meets at the community college. I can’t be completely honest there, obviously, but it’s been helpful anyway. I’ve thought about getting into counseling myself, try and help other people after I sort my own shit out a bit. What do you think?”

Jackson looks at Isaac in surprise. “I didn’t know you were in counseling.”

Isaac smiles at him. “They have chapters of the group at Stanford too, you know, you could try it out sometime.”

Stiles’ comments in high school, about Jackson needing about a thousand hours of therapy not being a surprise to anyone, ring in his head. But Jackson doesn’t at all like the idea of opening up to strangers. What would he even say: I was a poor little rich boy with a perfect life, and I was still so fucked up the werewolf bite turned me into a lizard of murderous vengeance for the worst month of my life? And I’m still fucked up, over six years later?

“Or not,” Isaac says wryly, clearly picking up on his dubiousness. “If and when you’re ready.”

“I think you could be good at counseling,” Jackson says. “Maybe you could have a secret side practice for supernaturals. I like talking to you, at least.”

Isaac looks pleased. “Good.” He pauses. “I’ve been wanting to ask you about something.”

“Yeah?”

“Our three weeks are up, and your finals are done.”

Jackson scowls. “Yeah, no. You’re not moving out. Fuck that. You belong with me.”

Isaac sighs. “I can’t afford to live here, Jackson. I was thinking, maybe, we could move somewhere else? Together? That we can both afford?”

“No,” Jackson says, annoyed. “You can afford to live here, since it doesn’t cost you anything.”

Isaac covers his face with his hands. “I feel like you aren’t listening to me.”

Jackson pulls Isaac’s hands down. “Fine. Talk.”

“I know you’ve been filthy rich your whole life and all, but I’ve never been. My parents bought the smallest, cheapest house in your neighborhood so we could be in the school district, and struggled to make the mortgage payments every month. And since I left home, I’ve been varying degrees of broke for the last almost seven years. Believe it or not, this is the best I’ve ever done, holding down two jobs and paying for my own tiny apartment in this stupid expensive city.”

“I get all that, but you don’t need to worry about that anymore,” Jackson says. “I’m literally paying for this two-bedroom apartment regardless of whether you’re here. And you’re mine, so you stay here with me. I want you to. You can quit the jobs if you want, just focus on school or whatever else you want.”

Isaac puts his hands back over his face, which Jackson takes to mean his response was not the desired one. Jackson pulls them down again.

“What do you think those volatile alphas told me about money, Jackson.”

Jackson considers, uncomfortable. “That they’d take care of you, that you didn’t ever have to worry about money?” he guesses reluctantly.

“Bingo. Until I didn’t want to do everything they demanded of me, but I was financially dependent on them, and didn’t have anywhere to go or anyway to support myself if I ran.”

Jackson sighs. “Would it help if I said I was different? I’m not going to kick you out on the street because we have a fight or something. I’m not Derek.”

“I believe you. That’s not the point, the point is I refuse to ever be in that position again. It’s not about you.”

Jackson thinks about it. “Ok, I have a compromise. You keep the jobs, and start paying me rent. Rent is whatever you used to pay at your studio.”

“That’s got to be way less than one-half of what you pay for this place,” Isaac protests.

“Probably, but like I said, I’m paying for this place anyway. I like it.” He pauses and adds shyly, “And I like having you around. I get lonely.”

“So the balance of my rent is paid with my ass?” Isaac asks, sounding annoyed.

Jackson groans and pulls a pillow over his head, since Isaac keeps hiding his own face from him. “No. Come on, Isaac, I’m trying to work with you here.”

Isaac tugs the pillow off and kisses him. “Fine,” he says.

“Really?” Jackson asks excitedly.

Isaac shakes his head. “Against my better judgment.”

“That’s what you said the last time,” Jackson says smugly. “How’d you wind up in Palo Alto anyway? You’re right, there’s a lot of places that would have been less expensive.”

Isaac looks at him incredulously. “Obviously, I came here because you were here.”

Jackson stares at him. This entire time, he had somehow assumed that Isaac had just wound up in Palo Alto by happenstance, which, in retrospect, makes very little sense. “Wait, what?”

Isaac looks uncomfortable. “I’m not saying it was a good plan, ok? I ran away from my alpha in France, and I knew I’d be best off with some kind of pack support, but I didn’t have enough money to come back to California. I’d heard you were in London so I decided to try and find you. I knew it was a long shot, but I thought maybe you’d help me again like you had in high school. So I managed to make it to London in August, and I eventually found where you’d been living, only you’d just left. But Ethan was still there, and we knew each other from when he’d been in Scott’s pack for a bit, so I asked him where you’d gone and he said Palo Alto and gave me your contact info.”

“Ethan Steiner,” Jackson says in a dead tone. He can feel his anger skyrocketing at the knowledge that Ethan had known, months before Jackson had, how bad things had been for Isaac, and had apparently let Isaac leave with nothing but a contact number. Had given Jackson zero indication about running into his old packmate in such dire straits, even though he’d known repairing and rebuilding his pack bonds had been Jackson’s whole reason for leaving London. All the betrayal Jackson had felt about their break-up comes rushing back, gushing over him like a waterfall, too fast and powerful to even breathe through.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to go for a walk,” Jackson says suddenly, standing up and pulling some clothes on. He yanks his phone away from its charger.

“Jackson, wait,” Isaac begins but Jackson ignores him. “Jackson!”

“Just going for a walk,” Jackson repeats. “By myself,” he adds when Isaac moves to follow. Isaac stops moving, just staring at him from Jackson’s bed. Jackson walks out, putting on shoes and grabbing his keys and exiting the apartment. He makes it to the park where Jacky and Isaac had spent the morning together the previous week before he decides he’s calm enough to make a phone call, pulling out his phone, swiping past the goddamn lockscreen picture of Ethan and himself, and dialing Ethan’s number. Late night in California means it’s early morning in London. 

The phone rings several times, and Jackson’s almost given up on Ethan answering when he picks up. “This better be an emergency.”

Jackson had left in August and it’s December now, meaning he hasn’t heard Ethan’s voice in four months. For a moment, the familiarity of it, even in the irritated tone, makes his heart swell, but then he’s back to enraged. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you saw Isaac Lahey? In _August_?”

There’s a long silence. “Seriously, Jackson,” Ethan says finally, irritation now through the roof. “You haven’t spoken to me in four months, and you’re going to open by asking me about your new boyfriend?” Jackson can hear the hurt too, and squashes down his automatic guilt.

“He’s not– what would you know about it.”

“He texted me about a week ago. Asking how the fuck to get you out of wolf form. I told him he should just let you rot and save himself the trouble.”

Jackson takes this in and decides he can save some rage for Isaac too. “Tell me what happened in August,” he demands.

“Nothing happened. And you can fuck right off. Go ask him!”

“I’m asking you. I’m asking you why you didn’t _tell_ me.”

“Are you being serious right now? You’d just abandoned me, and our five-year relationship and-”

“You abandoned me!” Jackson cuts him off. “You refused to even think about coming with-”

“We had a good thing going! A good life, a pack, you’d just graduated Oxford, supernatural shit was stable, things were finally, finally looking up for us-”

“I wanted to go back home!”

“London was our home! _I_ was supposed to be your home. But you only cared about the stupid goddamn McCall Pack that you never even spoke to.”

They’re both breathing hard. It’s the same argument they’d had over and over again in their last year in London together. Jackson hadn’t quite believed, up until his plane had taken off without Ethan on it, that Ethan would actually not come with him. And he suspected Ethan hadn’t quite believed Jackson would actually leave without him, hence why they’d clung together till the very end, despite how betrayed Ethan had felt when he’d found out Jackson had applied and been accepted to Stanford without initially telling him, and how betrayed Jackson had felt when Ethan hadn’t reacted supportively to Jackson’s news and plans.

Ethan was right that they’d built a life for themselves in London, even had what Jackson had thought of as a loose affiliation with the Clarke Pack there, but it just hadn’t felt like home to Jackson. Jackson had constantly felt the pull of California, some combination of his happy early childhood memories and the bonds he still felt with the McCall Pack. Ethan had felt no such pull, maybe because it hadn’t been his first or even second pack or maybe because he didn’t trace his wolf blood back to the Hales like Scott and Jackson and Isaac and most other werewolves in the McCall Pack. Ethan’s own California memories were primarily of bloodshed and violence and losing his twin; and Ethan had also formed a stronger bond to the Clarke Pack than Jackson had realized.

“Your precious Isaac showed up just a couple of days after you left, thin as a rail and looking like he’d been turning tricks on the street,” Ethan says finally, savagely. “He wanted to know where to find you, so I told him. I knew you’d want to help someone from McCall’s pack. That’s the whole story.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It is not my job to cater to you anymore. I didn’t want to speak to you again – still don’t, in fact – so I didn’t.”

Jackson doesn’t answer, taking the bitter words in.

“Were you seeing Lahey then?”

“What?!”

“Were you? Is that why?” Ethan’s voice is shaking with rage and hurt.

“No! Ethan, I would never. Never. I can’t believe you’d even fucking ask. I hadn’t seen or heard from him in over six years – till this October. Which could have been August, if you’d fucking told me that you saw my packmate in what sounds like a pretty desperate situation.”

“It sounds like things worked out just fine for the two of you, so I’m not sure what you’re yelling at me about. And I kind of thought you’d figure out something was up when you saw the massive charge for the last minute trans-Atlantic flight I bought him on your credit card!”

Jackson bites his lip. He definitely has a bad habit of not paying enough attention to his credit card bill. The bill for August had been unusually high, but he’d chalked it up to his expenses moving to Palo Alto, setting up his new place and buying law school textbooks, without looking into it further. Jackson’s starting to feel exceptionally stupid. And guilty. “It’s good to hear your voice,” he blurts out after a long silence, and winces, knowing it’s far, far too late to patch anything up with Ethan after the exceptional mess he’s made of this phone call. “Are you doing ok?”

“Fuck you.”

Ethan hangs up the phone before Jackson can respond. Jackson considers calling him back, but isn’t sure what he even wants to say. 

Isaac’s missing from his bed when Jackson gets back to the apartment, the door to Isaac’s bedroom firmly shut. Jackson knocks softly, but Isaac is either asleep or pretending to be.


	12. the doghouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So your phone does work,” Scott says in his usual pleasant, friendly tone.

Isaac sleeps in late the next morning, finally emerging around lunchtime, when he proceeds to ignore Jackson as he rummages around for some lunch for himself. Jackson is back to being able to read nothing off Isaac and is not quite sure what he’s done to merit this. Jackson thinks sadly of just a couple of days prior, when Isaac had cooked him breakfast and kissed him at the breakfast bar, before demanding to be fucked over it before Jackson went to his last final.

“I didn’t know you were here in Palo Alto,” Jackson blurts out. “Otherwise I would have looked you up earlier. Tried to help you. Come to pick you up from the airport, even.” He’d spent a lot of the morning wondering whether Isaac had spent the last several months resenting him for not showing up for him earlier.

Isaac stares at him for several moments, face indicating incredulity that that’s the first thing Jackson’s chosen to say to him today. “That’s nice,” he says coolly. “I didn’t need your help.”

“You came here in August. Why didn’t you reach out to me till October?”

“I didn’t need your help.”

“But you went all the way from France to London to Palo Alto to try and find me?”

“I didn’t need your help,” Isaac repeats for the third time, his tone making clear his low estimation of Jackson’s intelligence, if his glare hadn’t already. “My goal was to get away from my French alpha. I didn’t think he’d chase me all the way to the United States. So once I was here, the immediate threat was gone. And I knew you were close by, if I had some emergency.”

“Why here in Palo Alto? Why didn’t you go down to Los Angeles where Scott is?” Jackson asks, confused. 

Isaac doesn’t respond for a long moment, but he finally looks away and mutters, “I thought about it. But I just… didn’t want to see him. And I really didn’t want to see Derek.”

Jackson’s even more confused. “I thought you and Scott were, like, buds.”

Isaac sighs and rubs his temples. “We were. And then I briefly dated Allison, with his blessing, but it kind of made things awkward. And after she died, I just - couldn’t be around any of them anymore. It’s why I moved to France in the first place.”

Jackson blinks. He’d heard about Allison’s death and Isaac moving to France with Allison’s father after, but hadn’t known Allison and Isaac had dated. “You dated Allison? I didn’t realize she and Scott had broken up before she died.”

Isaac raises an eyebrow. “They broke up after everything that happened with you. Allison picked her hunter grandfather over Scott at the time. Don’t you remember? And then Allison wanted to sort through her stuff without Scott for a while. I think we may have both been in love with Scott for the brief period we were dating, honestly. But I did really like her. And I hadn’t hit, like, werewolf puberty, so I wasn’t an omega yet.”

Jackson gapes at the information that Isaac had been in love with Scott, but _of course_ he had. Scott’s nice and kind, an all-around good person that strives to be the best alpha he can be, even trying to save the Jackson Whittemores of the world. Scott had opened a place in his home and heart for Isaac despite their former antagonism, when Derek had kicked Isaac out. He’s exactly the kind of alpha Isaac deserves, the kind he _should_ fall in love with. All of which is making Jackson feel ill.

So of course the universe decides that very moment is when Jackson phone rings, with Scott McCall’s name on the caller ID for the first time in years. Jackson stares at it incredulously. 

“Speak of the devil,” Isaac says with a humorless laugh. “You should probably get that.”

Jackson picks up on the fifth ring, right before it goes to voicemail. “McCall.” He puts the phone on speaker, since he knows Isaac can hear every word anyway, and places it on the breakfast bar. Jackson collapses into one of the barstools, Isaac standing a few feet away.

“So your phone does work,” Scott says in his usual pleasant, friendly tone.

“Yup.”

“And that’s not why you didn’t tell me you were back in California.”

“Nope.”

“Lily Hamamura called me this morning. Imagine my surprise when she brags to me about these two werewolves she’s about to recruit, one of the strongest, most disciplined betas she’s ever seen, and a true omega. Only she, apparently unlike you, knows you’re in _my_ pack and didn’t want to piss me off by poaching you without my blessing.”

“Oh,” Jackson says weakly.

“I don’t give my blessing, for the record.”

Jackson sighs. “I’ve never really been in your pack, Scott, we were allies at best,” he says, not really believing the words. “And Isaac left your pack a long time ago. It was just an initial meeting, anyway, with Hamamura.”

There’s a long silence. “Excuse me? Are you forgetting we’ve known each other since elementary school? In second grade, we went to birthday parties at each other’s houses. In third grade, I helped you clean up when you threw up all over yourself on the zoo field trip and Danny was home sick. In fourth grade, you punched some kid for teasing Stiles about a panic attack after his mom died, and said I was clearly too much of an asthmatic loser to handle protecting my best friend myself. You helped us take down Peter Hale before your whole kanima incident. The whole _kanima incident_ , where the pack _saved_ you. You came back to Beacon Hills to fight Gerard and Monroe with us. You helped take down Monroe’s Hunter Army as our London branch.”

Jackson is a little incredulous anyone would refer to his spending a month on a killing spree as a “kanima incident”. And he doesn’t think the large Clarke Pack would appreciate being referred to as the “London branch” of the McCall Pack. But he’s maybe starting to get the point. He winces, unsure how he’d gone from packless to getting scolded by two different alphas in as many days about what an ungrateful, irresponsible beta he is.

“If you really don’t want to be part of our pack, I obviously can’t stop you,” Scott continues. “But I think if you’re going to audition like a performing monkey for Lily Hamamura’s pack, the least you can do is come see us too.” And Scott sounds so genuinely confused and concerned and hurt that Jackson finds himself drowning in guilt.

Jackson looks at Isaac uncertainly. Isaac looks unmoved. He mouths “Derek” at Jackson.

“What about Derek?” Jackson asks.

“Derek?” Scott sounds confused. “He travels a lot, but I can ask him to be here too. He’s my second these days. I know he’ll want to see Isaac.”

Isaac glares daggers.

“We don’t want to see him,” Jackson says.

“It’s not going to be an issue for him, if that’s what you think,” Scott says gently, after a moment. “He doesn’t dislike you, no one does.”

Jackson ignores the blatant lie, although he can’t pick up on Scott’s heartbeat through the phone well enough to tell for sure. “It’s an issue for us.”

“Ok…,” Scott says uncertainly. “Well I can make sure he’s on a trip, then! You don’t have to see him. When are you coming?” Scott sounds excited, happy, hopeful, like the puppy dog he almost always acts like. Jackson is a bit relieved; it suits Scott a lot better than the hurt tone. Jackson has no idea how to reconcile Scott’s puppy dog personality with _true alpha_ , someone whose strength and good leadership are so inherent he hadn’t needed to kill for alpha-status like every other alpha werewolf in the world. Jackson puts the phone on mute and looks up at Isaac helplessly.

“You’ve clearly already decided to go,” Isaac bites out. “So let’s go tomorrow. As long as there’s no Derek.”

Jackson bites his lip and turns the mute back off. “We can leave tomorrow. Does that work?”

“Yeah! Yeah. It’ll be good to see you, Jacks. You too, Isaac.” Scott can clearly hear two sets of breathing and heartbeats through the phone.

Isaac looks incredulous and doesn’t respond, staring at Jackson expectantly. Jackson isn’t sure what he’s expecting. “You too, Scott,” Jackson says finally. “Text me the address.”

Jackson hangs up the phone and looks at Isaac. “You, um. Excited to see Scott and them?”

“No,” Isaac says plainly.

“We don’t have to,” Jackson says uncertainly. “I am totally open to telling McCall to fuck off. We can stay by ourselves, or join Hamamura, or whatever else.”

Isaac just rolls his eyes. “It’s just a meeting, like we had yesterday. Scott likes us, but we shouldn’t openly offend him, just like we shouldn’t offend Hamamura. How long do you want to go for?”

Jackson knows Isaac is right, but Jackson is, no doubt unwisely, more concerned that Isaac might be upset with him than he is about offending Scott at the moment. Jackson probably should have asked Scott about how long. “The week maybe? We can drive back Thursday or Friday and go see Hamamura again on Saturday?” He hopes Tuesday-Thursday isn’t too long, if they lose Monday and Friday to driving. “Leave at 8 a.m. tomorrow, beat traffic? Or do you want to fly?”

“8 a.m. is fine,” Isaac says. “I’ll see if I can get the week off work. Don’t wait up, I’ll be working late tonight.” He promptly disappears into his room, swiftly followed by rushing out the apartment. 

Jackson resists the urge to pout. He supposes just because he’s on winter break now doesn’t mean it’s reasonable for him to expect Isaac just hang out with him all the time.

***

The next day, Isaac is already dressed and ready when Jackson returns from his shortened workout a little after 7 a.m., much to Jackson’s surprise. Isaac looks scrubbed fresh, but his ratty sweats and hoodie, that regrettably do not belong to Jackson, do not say pampered omega pet. He’s sitting on the couch with his beat-up suitcase in front of him, still unreadable like the day before.

“Not trying to impress Scott’s pack?” Jackson asks uncertainly. “I should get you a new suitcase,” he mutters, poking at the outside pocket of the suitcase, which is mostly detached and seems to be held on with several safety pins and some duct tape. “So people don’t wonder why I’m not taking care of my omega.” Jackson smiles at Isaac hopefully.

“My dad got this for me when I was a little kid,” Isaac says, which instantly makes Jackson deflate at having said the wrong thing, yet again. Anything having to do with Isaac’s dad is automatically complicated, even if Jackson _hadn’t_ murdered him as the kanima. “It’s a long drive,” Isaac says gruffly. “I can change before we get there, if you want.”

“You can wear whatever you want,” Jackson says unhappily, unsure why Isaac had gone all out with trying to impress the Hamamura Pack with their perfect couple routine, but seems to be making no effort for Scott, whose approval Jackson can reluctantly admit he cares about more. Jackson gives up and goes to his room for a quick shower, and though he rarely wears hoodies himself, he pulls on the Stanford Law one he’s seen Isaac wear a few times, mostly in hopes Isaac will want to wear it later.

Jackson packs quickly, plenty of athletic wear in hopes that Scott and his betas will want to spar, as well as some nicer clothes in hopes that Isaac will let Jackson take him on some real dates in Los Angeles. Would a helicopter ride be too much?

When Jackson re-emerges from his room, Isaac doesn’t seem to have moved, he’s still sitting on the couch like a statue. “We don’t have to go today,” Jackson says stiffly. “Like you said, Scott likes us. We can just… push it back. I already told my parents I’m not going back to London for the break, and my classes don’t start back up till January 8th. Or we can fly down for a weekend sometime even after we’re back in school.”

Isaac just looks at him. “If you’re comparing packs, you need to see Scott before you go back to see Alpha Hamamura. She won’t be happy about being kept waiting. I’m sure she’s already miffed that you didn’t fall over yourself accepting on the spot.”

“Oh,” Jackson says.

“Haven’t you done this before? How did you pick a pack in London?”

Jackson blinks in surprise. “I didn’t pick anything in London. We spent several months running away from hunters before Ethan finally found an alpha willing to talk to two blue-eyed packless werewolves. The pack decided to give us a chance and we didn’t look back.”

Isaac’s face twitches. “I see. You clearly got better since then,” he points out.

Jackson wonders about it now. He’d been pathetically grateful at the time, finally able to sleep at night with the protection of having a pack behind him. He knows he hadn’t brought much to the Clarke Pack initially, but wonders now, once his skills grew, if he should have tried harder to rise up among its ranks, or just auditioned for a different pack once it became apparent he would never win the favor of Alpha Clarke. He wonders if he would have been happy to stay in London with Ethan, if Jackson had been happier with their pack situation. But after speaking to Ethan a couple of nights prior, his whole life in London feels oddly distant now. Despite only having spent four months back in California, he can’t imagine going back to his old life, leaving Isaac, leaving behind his dreams of going to Stanford Law like his adoptive father had and the new possibilities of joining up with Hamamura or Scott. His parents are well-settled in London but they’ve been talking about moving back to California as well, now that Jackson seems set on staying, especially when he’d kept making excuses to not have to go back to London for winter break. It just hadn’t felt right.

Jackson shrugs at Isaac. “Never thought about upgrading, I guess.”

Isaac raises an eyebrow. “Lucky you have me now, to keep you from being an idiot.”

“I am lucky,” Jackson says vehemently and smiles at Isaac, hopeful this means he is either out of the doghouse, or had only imagined being in it.

Isaac shakes his head, and they make their way down to the parking garage and Jackson’s Audi, which Jackson can reluctantly admit is a little cramped for road trips. Isaac tries to get in the back and Jackson scowls at him. “Sit in front, I’m not your chauffeur.”

Isaac pouts at him but sits in front, and then promptly leans against the window. Jackson resists the urge to twitch at the grease no doubt being deposited on the glass. 

Jackson makes a few attempts at conversation as they drive, but Isaac gives him monosyllabic answers and finally says he doesn’t feel like talking and wants to take a nap. Jackson suspects he is mysteriously in the doghouse after all; Isaac’s lack of discernible pheromones is more noticeable in the small, enclosed space. Jackson feels his own ire rising in response, which only seems to make Isaac lean against the window harder, as if trying to get away from Jackson, which only makes Jackson’s ire rise more.

“If I let you get in the back,” Jackson growls after about an hour of this. “Will you stop trying to crawl out the car through the glass?”

Isaac’s eyes widen. He doesn’t respond verbally or give Jackson a chance to pull over, but promptly unbuckles his seatbelt and shimmies into the back through the narrow space between the front seats, ignoring Jackson’s sputtering when he accidentally (?!) elbows Jackson in the face in the process. 

“Better for naps,” Isaac claims. “I know you’re not my chauffeur. Wake me up if you want me to drive.”

“Do you even have a license?” Jackson snaps, having zero intent of letting Isaac anywhere near his precious’s steering wheel.

“Not an American one,” Isaac says lightly. Jackson glares as he eyes Isaac now leaning against the back window. “But one of my alphas actually had me work as his driver, among other things, so I know how to drive. Even stick. You know that Baby Driver movie from earlier this year? I was kind of like that.”

Jackson isn’t sure whether to be relieved that Isaac’s being more talkative in the back, or annoyed that Isaac seems happier being farther away from him, or horrified that Isaac had apparently spent time as a getaway driver for some presumably criminal enterprise. Ethan had dragged him to see the movie because he liked Ansel Elgort for some reason, so for once he gets Isaac’s reference. “You’re never driving my car,” he says. “But we should get you a license.” What other basic life necessities does Isaac not have?!

“Suit yourself,” Isaac says, and promptly pretends to be asleep.

Jackson suppresses a growl. They stop for a mostly silent lunch at some awful place where Jackson’s only option is the world’s saddest salad bar, and Isaac eats some greasy-looking pizza. Jackson wants to demand to know where his skinny frame stores so much unhealthy food, but if being with Ethan had taught him anything, it was to keep his food issues to himself.

When they leave the sad excuse for a restaurant, Isaac glances surreptitiously at him before returning to the back of the car before Jackson can protest. Before getting back in the driver’s seat, Jackson pointedly cleans off the inside of the front passenger window, which Isaac ignores.

They’re about an hour away from Scott’s, per the map on Jackson’s phone, when he pulls over to get gas. Isaac gets out to stretch, and glances at him.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Isaac asks.

Jackson stares at him incredulously. “What.”

“We’re almost at Scott’s, right? And we haven’t since day before yesterday. I wouldn’t want them to think-”

“That you’ve barely said two words to me all day?”

Isaac’s eyes widen. “I was napping! I worked till 3 a.m. last night, and you know I’m not a crazy morning person like you.”

“The whole day,” Jackson says flatly.

Isaac rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry I was tired and didn’t pay enough attention to you.” He steps closer to Jackson and reaches out to touch his arm. “I’m paying attention now.” Jackson can feel lust in Isaac’s touch but it feels inauthentic somehow. Maybe he’s getting better at reading his omega after all. Jackson snaps his arm away.

“This is a fucking gas station.”

“But Scott-” Isaac begins and Jackson has to fight the urge to flash wolf eyes and growl at Isaac. Because of course, Isaac’s more concerned about what Scott will think than he is about Jackson.

“I don’t give a fuck. Get back in the car.”

Isaac seems to shrink in on himself, and Jackson is horrified to see his eyes look a little shiny. Jackson instinctively reaches out to comfort him and Isaac flinches back as if Jackson had physically struck him.

Jackson’s gaze hardens and he crosses his arms over his chest. “Will you please tell me,” he hisses, “what it is that you think I’ve done?”

Isaac shakes his head mutely. “Nothing,” he says weakly.

“Bullshit,” Jackson says. “Stop acting like a child, it’s not cute.”

“Everything’s fine,” Isaac insists. “Come on, we have to go see Scott. Can I at least have the hoodie? You brought it for me, right? You never wear it.”

Jackson glowers at him and wants to deny it, but it’s true. He tugs it off, leaving him in a t-shirt. He yanks the hoodie back when Isaac reaches for it. “Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll give it to you.”

“Why are you so sure something’s wrong?” Isaac asks desperately.

“Gee, I don’t know, maybe the part where you’re asking me to fuck you one minute and flinching away from me the next.”

Isaac shudders. “You’re so angry at me. I told you, I can’t help picking up on what you’re giving off. But it’s fine. Just give me the hoodie.”

“I’m angry at you because you’ve clearly been upset all day today and yesterday, and you won’t talk to me.”

“I’m not upset.”

Jackson rubs his temples. “You’re practically crying. You’ve barely spoken to me in two days. You spent all of this trip trying to get as far from me as you physically could in that car.”

“You don’t know what it’s like!” Isaac bursts out. “Having all your rage thrust at me like a weapon, all fucking day, in that tiny box.”

Jackson stares at him. “You could have said something. But you were upset before we ever got in the car, stop avoiding the question.”

There’s a long silence before Isaac opens his mouth again. “You fucked me and we were in the middle of a real conversation and you just– walked out on me and ordered me to leave you alone. Because I _mentioned_ his name.”

Jackson blinks in confusion before realizing Isaac must be referring to a couple of nights prior. “This is about Ethan?”

“Yes, this is about Ethan!” Isaac cries, apparently gaining steam. “Do you think I don’t notice the fucking lockscreen on your phone, fifty million times a day, when your stupid phone keeps lighting up with its stupid fifty million alerts? What even do you subscribe to, and why?!”

“I only called him because I was angry he didn’t tell me about you earlier! Because I was upset you’d had to be by yourself so long.”

Isaac’s eyes widen. “You called him?!”

Jackson bites his lip. Blurting that out, and calling Ethan in the first place, had not been his brightest moments. “You texted him,” slips out, because he can’t stop digging his own grave.

“Yeah, I did. Do you know how humiliating that was, to have to text your ex to figure out how to save you from being stuck as a wolf forever? His suggestion worked, too.”

Jackson winces. Knowing Ethan had helped is somehow worse than thinking he’d just told Isaac to let Jackson rot and left it at that.

“That’s such bullshit anyway,” Isaac continues. “You didn’t call him for me. Alpha Hamamura said I have empathic abilities, remember. You called him because you felt betrayed by him. And you had to go tell him off about it right away when I reminded you that he broke your heart.” Isaac’s openly crying now. “I don’t even matter.”

“How can you say that to me? You matter. You’re the only thing that matters.”

Isaac looks decidedly unimpressed, swiping at his eyes angrily. “Oh please. I don’t even outrank eating healthy, on your list of concerns.”

“Where is this even coming from? Have we been in the same relationship, where I followed you around like an insane person for a month before I begged you to move in with me? Look, I’m sorry I called him, ok? It was an idiot move; I get that. I fucked up. Yeah, maybe I have some residual bitterness about my ex, but everyone has baggage. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. It’s you and me now. Remember?”

Isaac sniffs. “Really?” he asks hopefully, after a moment.

“Yes. Really.”

Isaac appears to consider this, then throws himself at Jackson and squeezes him in a hug. He steps back and abruptly pulls off his own hoodie to reveal his bare chest underneath, before grabbing the Stanford hoodie from Jackson and pulling it on. Before Jackson can stop him, he also gets behind the car and changes from his pilling sweats into some jeans he pulls out his suitcase, while Jackson frantically tries to shield him from view with his body.

“Much better,” Isaac declares cheerily. “Sorry, I think I was a little oversensitive from the whole-” he waves his hand around “rage projection in a small, enclosed space thing. You should really work on that.”

Jackson huffs, feeling wrongfooted at the whiplash in mood. “I’ll try,” he says, somewhere between grumpy about the whole day, guilty about upsetting his omega and relieved that they seem to have made up. In all the time he’d spent feeling insecure about Isaac, it hadn’t even occurred to him that Isaac might also feel insecure about him and need reassurance sometimes. “Are we ok?”

“We’re perfect.” Isaac smiles beatifically and opens the rear door he’d been sitting by and cleans off the interior of the window before getting back in the front passenger seat. Jackson immediately feels guilty for having passive-aggressively cleaned the front window earlier. He’s lucky Isaac deigns to share his face grease with him.


	13. cuddliest werewolf ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott glances between Jackson and Isaac uncertainly after dinner. “Are you guys ok sharing a room?” he asks apologetically.
> 
> Liam and Theo both start laughing although they shut up when Scott says he’ll make them share so Jackson can have one of their rooms for the week.
> 
> “Isaac’s wearing Jackson’s sweatshirt,” Malia points out reasonably.

The last hour of the drive passes quickly. Jackson pointedly changes his lockscreen picture to a default option, and Isaac looks pleased and keeps up a steady stream of chatter, earlier misery apparently forgiven and forgotten. They pull into Scott’s driveway, and before Jackson can tell Isaac he’s changed his mind and they’re just going to go back immediately, the doors to the house open and Scott and several others pour out of the house.

“You and me,” Isaac whispers to him, before getting out the car. Scott immediately crushes Isaac to himself in a bear hug. Jackson gets out the car and restrains himself from ripping Scott off Isaac’s stiff form. Isaac pulls himself away and coughs. “You’re not really supposed to touch an omega without permission, Scott,” he says.

“Oh!” Scott says, face all kicked puppy. “You used to love when I touched you. You were like the cuddliest werewolf ever, and I know a lot of cuddly werewolves.”

This is doing nothing to endear Scott to Jackson. Jackson knows Isaac _is_ extremely cuddly, and he doesn’t need to hear about his omega getting his cuddles elsewhere.

Scott turns to Jackson with a bright smile. “Do I have your consent to hug you?” he asks, very seriously.

“Absolutely not,” Jackson says, at the same time Isaac snorts and says that was an omega-only rule, and they should all feel absolutely welcome to hug Jackson double for the both of them.

Scott apparently decides to take Isaac’s word over Jackson’s, and promptly crushes him into a bear hug instead, even going so far as to nuzzle against his neck, which Jackson awkwardly tries to lean away from, before giving up and hugging Scott back. Scott smells good, of strength and love and pack and home. Jackson feels almost like he had scenting Isaac that first night at the night club, but it’s inverted somehow.

A girl around their age, with dark blonde hair not unlike his own, grabs Jackson next. “Malia Tate,” she says, before hugging him and immediately shoving her face in his neck and inhaling deeply. She doesn’t move for what seems like an eternity. From how strongly she smells of Scott, Jackson suspects they’re together, but Scott seems profoundly unbothered by having his girlfriend in an extended hug with Jackson, introducing his various betas to Isaac proudly. “You smell good,” Malia says, sounding surprised. “Surprisingly homey.”

“Uh, thanks?” She smells surprisingly homey to him too, which he expects is from her smelling like Scott.

“I didn’t get to scent you on your last Beacon Hills trip,” she says, like she’s puzzling something out. “Can I have a hair sample?”

Jackson tries to catch Isaac’s eye, but he seems busy chatting with Scott and his betas. Jackson can’t help but notice the betas all seem very taken with Isaac and eager to impress him, although none of them touch him after Isaac’s warning. Jackson decides to just be proud, rather than murderous, this one time. The whole bit where omegas are attractive even to otherwise straight male werewolves is really annoying sometimes. But Jackson supposes he shouldn’t offend Scott’s girlfriend, even if she is weirding him out. “Ok? For what?”

“Testing,” she says, reaching out and plucking a couple hairs out his head. Jackson winces and rubs at his head. Isaac chooses this moment to take notice, looking at Jackson incredulously and at Malia suspiciously.

Jackson is introduced to and shamelessly hugged by the other betas who are present, a Liam Dunbar, a Theo Raeken, a Corey Bryant and an Alec Wadsworth. There’s also a human named Mason Hewitt, who also hugs Jackson, though a bit more tentatively. Jackson’s not sure if any of them had been present on his last Beacon Hills trip, but since he’d spent a lot of it kidnapped and tortured and temporarily turned into stone, decides to pretend he’s meeting them for the first time anyway.

“That’s everyone that lives in this house, but there’s lots more of us,” Scott says proudly, coming over to Jackson as the rest of the pack and Isaac grab their suitcases and sweep into the house. “You don’t have to live here to be part of the pack, obviously, we have lots of members that don’t live in L.A. or just have their own places. Stiles and Lydia live in Boston, but they’re off on a Caribbean vacation at the moment and were very sorry to miss you.”

Jackson’s a little disappointed that Lydia is absent and a little relieved that Stiles is, although incredulous they’re apparently still (?!) dating. He’s also pretty sure only Lydia was sorry to miss him, if that. “Sorry to miss them too,” he says politely.

“Derek and Peter have their own places, but they live close by; they’re out of town at the moment, though.” For a moment, Jackson is worried Scott is going to wink at him, but luckily Scott restrains himself, just grinning proudly at having arranged things to Jackson’s requests.

“It’s really good to see you, Jacks,” Scott says, going in for another bear hug. Jackson wonders what it’s like, to be so open and forgiving, wonders how Scott had gotten even kinder when faced with all the cruelty Jackson knows the world had offered him. Scott slings an arm companionably across his shoulders and walks him indoors.

It had apparently been Corey’s and Mason’s, who are apparently dating, turn to make dinner, and it’s surprisingly good if simple, Jackson indulging himself with tangy marinara sauce and white (!) pasta that he’s going to have to work off the rest of the week. It’s completely unlike meeting the Hamamura Pack, Scott’s betas seem to have decided that if Jackson and Isaac are good with Scott, they can be instantly accepted. The pack chatters non-stop. Jackson learns Scott had moved to L.A. at some point during the Hunter Wars, and met and taken in Alec, who had lost his entire first pack, as well as what little family he’d had, to the hunters a couple of years prior, a little before he’d met Scott. Alec’s still only seventeen, and Jackson’s heart breaks a little that he’d found himself alone and packless at only fifteen. The rest of the pack is all apparently from Beacon Hills, although Jackson doesn’t recall any of them from when he’d lived there. Malia and Theo are the same age as Jackson, but Malia had been stuck as a coyote until after Jackson had left and Theo’s family had moved away in the fourth grade and Theo had only returned to Beacon Hills for his senior year. The others had all been a couple of years behind Jackson at school and thus unworthy of his notice. Isaac doesn’t seem to know the younger ones either and only seems to know Malia a little, although, as usual, he is far better than Jackson at chatting everyone up.

The house is large but there’s nothing fancy about it, it seems more like a frat house than anything else, which makes sense since it’s mostly occupied by college-aged boys. Jackson can’t find two pieces of furniture that match, but finds it all a bit charming, despite himself. At least it seems relatively clean, which seems to mostly be because Corey keeps a chore wheel, which he points at as he commands a grumbling Liam and Theo to handle the post-dinner clean up. Jackson is surprised Malia tolerates being the only girl, but he supposes she’d have different standards after several years living as a wild coyote in the woods.

Scott glances between Jackson and Isaac uncertainly after dinner. “Are you guys ok sharing a room?” he asks apologetically.

Liam and Theo both start laughing although they shut up when Scott says he’ll make them share so Jackson can have one of their rooms for the week.

“Isaac’s wearing Jackson’s sweatshirt,” Malia points out reasonably.

“But that’s just what Isaac-” Scott begins.

“We’ll share,” Isaac cuts him off, glaring.

Jackson fumes, because he’s pretty sure Scott was about to say that’s just what Isaac does, as in, Isaac used to wear _Scott’s_ clothes, in addition to cuddling him.

Alec, apparently the most mature in addition to being the youngest, just shakes his head and grabs both Jackson’s and Isaac’s suitcases, showing them to a cozy guestroom on the main floor. Per Alec, Scott and Malia share the attic, Corey and Mason share the master bedroom on the second floor, and the other betas have their own rooms on the second floor.

Corey, who Jackson suspects rules the house with an iron fist, announces it’s game night and pulls out various board and card games. Liam, Theo and Alec all keep losing on purpose to try and help Isaac, while Jackson glowers at them. Isaac pretends not to notice and keeps making exaggerated exclamations of delighted surprise as he wins. Jackson and Malia get overly competitive against each other, until everyone else gets tired of them and makes them pair up, after which they dominate everyone else and high five every time they win. After the seventeenth “in your face, McCall,” from one of them, Scott gives an exaggerated yawn and announces he’s going to bed before disappearing up the stairs.

Malia squeezes Jackson in another hug. He thinks he’s been hugged more times today than in all his time in Palo Alto. “I’m glad you’re here. Scott was really worried about you,” she says softly, before following after Scott.

Corey looks at Alec meaningfully until he helps Corey put away all the games. The betas all say their goodnights and disperse, leaving Jackson and Isaac on their own. Jackson pulls Isaac into their room, shuts the door and tugs Isaac down to lie on top of him fully clothed, sighing in sudden exhaustion. Isaac lays his head on Jackson’s chest so he can listen to his heartbeat. They lie in silence for a few minutes.

“Was I too obnoxious about the games?” Jackson asks.

Isaac laughs softly. “Not more than your twin. You and Malia are kind of insufferable together. I wouldn’t have thought you’d get along, necessarily.”

Jackson considers. “She seems… very honest. It’s refreshing.”

Isaac snorts. “She’s definitely that. No artifice with her.”

“You having a good time?” Jackson asks, realizing he hadn’t paid as much attention to Isaac as usual, distracted by so many rambunctious pack members around.

“Yeah,” Isaac says. “And you seem surprisingly comfortable. It’s a good look on you.”

Jackson blushes and moves his hand to Isaac’s crotch to change the topic.

“Let’s just sleep tonight,” Isaac murmurs, pushing Jackson’s hand away. 

“Yeah, of course,” Jackson says, surprised. He realizes, with some concern, that Isaac has initiated the majority of their sexual encounters and has never once said no to Jackson before. “Are you still upset? Do you want to talk?”

“Just tired,” Isaac says. “It was a long drive. And a lot of new people.” He looks at Jackson. “We can if you want,” he says, moving Jackson’s hand back to his crotch.

Jackson squeezes gently and lets go. “Let’s sleep,” he says. “I’m tired too.”

They wash up and undress and crawl under the covers in their underwear, which feels strange.

“I fucked Derek,” Isaac says suddenly. “He was my first.”

Jackson turns on his side and stares at him. “You didn’t think maybe you should tell me this before we came here? And seriously? When you were fucking sixteen and he was like… twenty?”

“I was still fifteen,” Isaac says softly. “And he was twenty-three. I didn’t think you’d agree to come, and you needed to.”

Jackson is twenty-three now. He thinks of Cody’s cousins, how small and childish they’d appeared. He forces down his irritation that Isaac yet again is keeping secrets from him, making decisions based on what he thinks is best for Jackson without consulting him. Jackson thinks through the many ways he knows to kill a werewolf instead.

“He didn’t force me,” Isaac adds quickly. “Like I said, I hadn’t hit werewolf puberty yet, but he told me I was going to mature into an omega any day, and he was worried about the Alpha Pack or someone else thinking I was unclaimed and kidnapping me to be their sex slave or whatever. The Alpha Pack did try to kidnap me anyway, although I don’t think they knew I was an omega. And they had already successfully kidnapped Erica and Boyd and Cora, because they were Derek’s betas. Derek was understandably paranoid about losing his only remaining pack member and didn’t want to take any chances.”

“He had his Uncle Peter,” Jackson says, voice like ice. “More importantly, he was your alpha and your caretaker and eight years older than you and you were extremely underage in both human and werewolf terms. That’s like the textbook definition of abuse.”

“Not extremely underage.” Isaac rolls his eyes. “I’m pretty sure you were having sex when you were fifteen.”

“With another fifteen-year-old,” Jackson snaps, before trying to shove down his anger, not wanting to project his rage at Isaac again. “Sorry. Thank you for telling me. But I’m not going to agree it was ok.”

“Don’t tell anyone? I don’t think Scott knows.”

“Of course not,” Jackson says gruffly.

“That’s why I didn’t want to see Derek. I don’t hate him but… it’s complicated.”

“Were you in love with him? You can hate him. You should. It’s good he’s not going to be here, because I’m killing him next time I see him.”

“I honestly don’t think he even wanted me, he just acted like it was his duty as an alpha to fuck his omega on the regular, it was weirdly clinical,” Isaac says, not answering Jackson’s actual question. “And he’s Scott’s second, you can’t just kill him,” he adds lightly, “although that is part of why I didn’t want him here.”

“Fuck,” Jackson says. “Should we just leave? There’s no way this can work out, right?”

Isaac reaches out and touches his arm, again comforting when he should be the one being comforted, like when he’d obliquely alluded to his negative pack experiences after their TV and laptop rescue mission. Jackson can feel the calm Isaac’s projecting at him and tries to relax into rather than fight it. “It’s just a meeting,” Isaac promises. “Derek won’t even be here and Scott’s a good guy and you care about him. Let’s just see how it goes.”

“You care about Scott too,” Jackson accuses, unhappily reminded that while Isaac had been very clear about avoiding Derek, Isaac _loved_ Scott; kind, perfect, true alpha Scott. And for some reason, Jackson has literally driven Isaac straight back into Scott’s arms.

Isaac makes a non-committal noise and Jackson wraps himself around him possessively.

“Am I a better cuddler than Scott?” Jackson demands.

Isaac laughs for what seems like an eternity, as Jackson glowers at him. “I’m just picturing Ms. Competitive upstairs demanding from Scott whether she’s a better cuddler than me.”

“Well?!”

Isaac pretends to consider. “I don’t know, cuddling is very subjective. Scott is more of a big bear hug style, and you’re more of a get your limbs absolutely everywhere like a possessive child.”

Jackson can’t deny that all four of his limbs are entangled with Isaac in some way at the moment. 

Isaac kisses him. “Go to sleep, Jackson. You’re obviously my favorite.”

“And you wore his clothes?” Jackson asks, not bothering to try and hide his jealousy.

Isaac shrugs. “He was my alpha, it’s an omega thing. I wore Derek’s clothes too.”

Jackson suppresses a growl. “And the French guy?”

Isaac looks away. “No. Never his.”

***

Jackson wakes with a start, feeling overheated (he usually remembers to withdraw from overly possessive cuddling before he falls asleep) and thrown off by the unfamiliar location and scents. He carefully extricates himself from Isaac, ignoring Isaac’s mumbled protests about it being too early to move. His phone indicates its almost 5 a.m., so he decides to leave the house for his usual workout. Scott had said he leaves the house unlocked all the time, because of course he does, although to be fair, there’s usually someone home, and most of its many occupants are werewolves. 

A blue-eyed coyote he recognizes by scent as Malia finds and joins him just as the sun’s rising, and he sits for a moment to watch the sunrise, petting her golden-brown fur. He’s sorely tempted to shift to his full wolf form so they can play together, but doesn’t want to get himself in trouble with Isaac so soon after their fight the day before. He stays human and races her back to the house after, laughing and shouting about cheating as she squeezes through some bushes he definitely can’t get through in his human form and beats him to the front door.

Scott is standing in the doorway waiting for her, and laughs as well as she runs past him and disappears upstairs. “You a morning person too, Jacks?” Scott asks, crushing Jackson to him in another bear hug.

“Um yeah, I guess,” Jackson says. That’s the third or fourth time Scott has shortened his name, and Jackson considers telling him no one’s allowed to do that, but can’t bring himself to risk seeing Scott’s kicked puppy expression again. He draws the line at any of the betas picking up on it, though.

By the time Jackson’s out the shower and dressed, everyone’s already up and at the breakfast table. Alec is serving up breakfast: bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, hash browns, waffles and pancakes with custom inserts depending on each pack member’s preferences. Jackson takes a seat and feels a bit queasy at the bacon grease smell, but Isaac places his usual egg-white omelet and turkey sausage in front of him deftly, before taking a seat next to him. Jackson smiles at him gratefully.

“Does Jackson get special breakfast?” Mason asks, leaning forward curiously, and then back in disappointment when he notes its tragic nature.

“Must be nice having your own personal omega, huh,” Theo says, with a nasty laugh. Liam elbows him in the side, but Theo continues, “He have you on a diet, Jacks?”

“No one calls me that,” Jackson snaps, promptly deciding he’s kicking Theo’s ass if the beta dares to spar with him later. “And no, but I’m very particular, and he was trying to not have me embarrass myself by refusing to eat your food.”

“Scott does,” Theo mutters.

“Scott’s the alpha,” Malia says, reappearing from upstairs in human form and stealing some bacon off said alpha’s plate. Jackson’s pretty sure some alphas would kill their betas for less, but Scott just looks at her besottedly. Jackson hopes he looks slightly less ridiculous when looking at Isaac. Malia then steals a waffle off Theo’s plate, ignoring his sputtering. Alec rolls his eyes and puts a replacement waffle on Theo’s plate before he can get too worked up.

“Do you have food allergies?” Corey asks anxiously. “I wish you’d told me, we’ll get some stuff you can eat. We were going to go grocery shopping today anyway. Isaac, do you want to come?”

“I don’t have allergies,” Jackson mutters uncomfortably. “That’s really not necessary, I’m sure whatever you have will be fine.” He’s starting to remember why he hates staying in other people’s homes, other than the uncomfortable feeling of waking up surrounded by unfamiliar scents in an unfamiliar location.

“Dude,” Mason says. “Just tell Corey what you like, he takes being a good host very seriously. Scott’s always bringing home lost puppies, he’s such a soft touch.”

“Sure, I’ll come with,” Isaac says lightly to Corey.

Jackson has a bitter taste in his mouth suddenly. Of course Scott brings home lost puppies. Alec had been one, hadn’t he? And of course the pack acted kind to them, because Scott wanted them to. Jackson was an idiot for thinking he was an old friend, rather than someone to be pitied and hugged and made special meals for. He’d never actually been Scott’s friend, after all.

Isaac puts his hand on Jackson’s arm. “Stop,” he says softly. _You and me_ , Jackson imagines he hears through the touch. _It doesn’t matter what any of them think, because you have me_. Jackson suspects his own dumb besotted look is giving Scott’s a run for its money, but he can’t really bring himself to care. Isaac’s right. So what if this pack did think he was a lost puppy. It was a helpful reminder that they weren’t his, at least not yet, even if they did act warm and open and welcoming. But Isaac was his, had his back.


	14. how come Scott’s allowed to call you ‘Jacks’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The others all trickle back by late afternoon and settle in on the back porch with drinks. Scott walks up and grabs Jackson in yet another bear hug. “You going to audition for me, Jacks?” he asks into Jackson’s ear. “Like you did for Hamamura?”

Eventually Scott leaves for his job as a vet tech; Malia leaves for mysterious purposes; and Mason, Corey and Isaac leave for the grocery store. Alec, Liam and Theo are apparently all on winter break from high school and college respectively, and Alec asks Jackson if he wants to come train with them in the backyard. Liam and Theo seem to alternate between best friends and worst enemies, and Alec clearly feels left out on occasion as the youngest in the pack. Jackson’s heart melts at Alec’s hopeful young face, and he agrees immediately, although, to be fair, training with the betas was what he’d wanted to do anyway.

He can see why Scott chose this house when he sees the backyard – it’s much larger than he’d expected, with several mature trees, and a high fence all around protecting them from the view of any neighbors. There’s even a make-shift jungle gym of sorts, the poor man’s version of the huge and meticulously planned one at Hamamura’s mansion. Jackson can picture Scott having lovingly built it for his betas on some sunny weekend.

Jackson feels a lot freer to just enjoy the jungle gym here than he had at Hamamura’s, and he and Scott’s betas pass several hours pleasantly, running and climbing and jumping at each other. Jackson also manages to slam Theo with a little too much force into several surfaces, which is very satisfying, even if Theo does promptly recover from each injury. Theo’s apparently a hybrid werewolf-werecoyote, artificially created in a laboratory by some group Theo and Liam call the Dread Doctors that Scott and his pack had had to take down during high school after Jackson had left. Jackson learns something new and terrifying every day in the supernatural world.

The others all trickle back by late afternoon and settle in on the back porch with drinks. Scott walks up and grabs Jackson in yet another bear hug. “You going to audition for me, Jacks?” he asks into Jackson’s ear. “Like you did for Hamamura?”

Jackson pulls back, surprised. “If you want,” he says uncertainly. He had thought he was already accepted, but maybe not.

“I want,” Scott says. “Jackson’s going to audition for us!” he announces.

Malia groans from the porch. “Oh come on, Scott.”

“Audition?” Alec asks uncertainly.

“It means Jackson has to fight all of us,” Theo says, eyeing Jackson appraisingly. “To see if he’s good enough that we want him. And to determine where he fits in if we do.”

“Above you, obviously,” Jackson says with a sneer.

“But I didn’t audition,” Alec says.

“Of course not,” Scott says, ruffling Alec’s hair. “You were just invited.”

Theo snorts. “I was just invited too. And I killed Scott once.”

“I thought Jackson’s already in the pack,” Liam says uncertainly.

“He is,” Scott agrees. “But he knows what he did and he already agreed, so let’s go! Alec, you’re up first.” 

Alec’s eyes widen. “I’ll lose!” Scott waves a hand dismissively and saunters back to the porch. 

Jackson grins at Alec, all teeth, and Alec’s eyes widen even more. “It’s ok,” Jackson says, relenting too quickly, speaking softly enough that hopefully the others can’t hear, although you never knew with werewolf hearing. “It’s just for fun and practice, I’m not going to seriously hurt you. Maybe Theo, though.”

“No killing or serious maiming on either side,” Isaac calls. Which probably means they’d all heard and knew what a soft touch Jackson was. Fuck.

“Agreed,” Scott says, trying to kiss Malia, who shoves him off, annoyed.

Alec runs at him in half-shift and Jackson side-steps and flips him to the ground like he had with Cody at Hamamura’s. He crouches down and places outstretched claws over Alec’s neck. 

Alec blinks up at him. “Now what?” he whispers.

“That’s it,” Jackson says. “You’re done, you want to go back to the porch? Tell Isaac you’re my favorite beta and he’ll be nice to you.”

Alec runs off. Corey loudly announces he doesn’t fight and will be passing. “Isn’t he a werewolf?” Jackson asks, confused.

“Made in the Dread Doctors’ lab, like Theo,” Liam says. “He’s part chameleon. He has super strength and healing, but he’s more a spy than a fighter.”

Malia loudly announces she will also be passing, glowering at Scott.

Mason asks if he should announce he’s passing, or if it’s assumed, since he’s human. The others ignore him.

“Guess it’s me, then,” Theo says, grinning. “Clear off, Liam, wouldn’t want Scott’s precious baby to get hurt before his turn.”

Liam glowers at him and stomps off to the porch to watch.

Theo is patient, cunning and ruthless; but his physical strength is not equal to a true werewolf’s. Jackson goes into half-shift and fights him for a long time, partly because he’s a fun opponent, and partly to entertain Scott, who clearly wants a show to relieve some of his butthurt that Jackson had auditioned for another pack. Jackson throws Theo high into a tree when he gets bored of fighting, climbing up it in a way no mere werewolf could manage but that was easy for a part kanima, to hold his claws against Theo’s neck.

“What the fuck,” Theo gasps breathlessly. “How did you get up here so fast.”

Jackson winks, and throws him out the tree onto the ground, which he estimates as roughly equivalent to a fall from a second story window. Theo whimpers as he lands heavily on his back and lets Alec and Corey come take him away.

“You’d already won,” Liam says dryly, looking up at Jackson in the tree, as he comes up to take his friend’s place. “That wasn’t necessary.”

Jackson jumps out the tree and lands on his feet in front of Liam. “Sorry,” he says insincerely. “Are you really Scott’s favorite?” he asks curiously. “Not Alec?”

Liam flushes. “I’m his firstbitten, is all.”

Well fuck. Liam would not be getting thrown out of any trees, in that case, Jackson didn’t need Scott going mama bear on his ass.

Liam’s extremely strong, but prone to anger and distraction. He and Theo might make a good fighting pair, their strengths and weaknesses complementing each other. Jackson is regretting having spent so long fighting Theo that he’s not at his peak. Luckily he manages to subdue Liam before he can get a lucky hit in, catching him off-guard with a leap from Liam’s side and pinning him to the ground with a clawed hand at his throat. 

Liam grumpily lets Jackson give him a hand up after. He even shakes his hand before they head back to the porch. Jackson is reluctantly impressed at the good sportsmanship.

“That was fast,” Isaac says smugly, standing to wrap his arms around Jackson’s neck and kiss him. “Now what?”

“I want to go again,” Liam says, jumping up from the chair he’d been seated in, apparently unable to withstand Isaac’s cool dismissal. 

“No,” Scott says, shoving Liam back down into his chair. “Jackson’s in the pack. He won the audition. Which was just a silly game, since he was in the pack all along,” he adds frantically, eyeing Malia. “Congrats, Jacks!” He jumps up and gives Jackson another bear hug.

“ _Jacks_ hasn’t accepted yet,” Theo points out. “And he just threw me out of a tree.”

Jackson glares at him. “The tree throwing may have been a bit much,” he admits. “But seriously, no one calls me that.” He flashes werewolf blue eyes at Theo, who looks away and sighs.

“Really, Jackson?” Scott asks, all kicked puppy again. “Are you still deciding?”

“We promised Alpha Hamamura we’d go back for a second meeting on Saturday,” Isaac says quickly before Jackson can respond. “She controls all of Palo Alto and the surrounding areas so we don’t want to offend her, I’m sure you understand.”

Jackson bites his lip. He’s annoyed Isaac answered for him, but he has to admit it’s a better answer than he would have come up with on the spot. 

Scott nods reluctantly. “Fine,” he says, in a tone that indicates it is not fine. “We’ll just make sure to show you guys a great time the next couple of days,” he adds brightly. “You’re not leaving till Friday, right?”

“Right,” Jackson says, internally sighing as he realizes there’s not going to be much time to sneak off and plan helicopter rides if they’re supposed to be socializing with the pack the entire time.

***

Scott pulls Jackson aside after dinner and asks him to go on a walk, which Jackson agrees to.

They walk slowly down the sidewalk in silence, but Scott keeps looking over at him and smiling.

“What?” Jackson asks self-consciously after several instances of this.

Scott laughs. “Sorry, I’m just… glad you’re here. I didn’t think you ever would be. I kind of thought you’d stay in London forever.”

“I thought about that too,” Jackson says.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what brought you back?”

Jackson considers. There’s no way he’s telling Scott he came back out of some misguided longing for him and his pack. “My dad went to Stanford Law. It was always my dream to go there too. And it’d been so many years, it just… felt like the reasons I’d left didn’t matter anymore. It’s not like anyone in Palo Alto is asking awkward questions about my maybe dying on the Beacon Hills High lacrosse field. It felt like time to come back home.”

“And Ethan?” Scott asks tentatively.

“He didn’t want to come,” Jackson says simply, refusing to meet Scott’s eyes. “California’s not his home.”

“I’m sorry,” Scott says. “You seemed good together.”

Jackson shrugs.

“But you and Isaac, huh?” Scott adds brightly.

“Yeah,” he says stiffly. “Me and Isaac.”

“Is it serious?”

“It’s serious for me. You don’t have to worry about me hurting your friend.”

Scott laughs without humor. “Isaac can take care of himself. You think you’ve gotten to know him pretty well?”

Jackson can describe every mole on Isaac’s body, does that count? “Pretty well,” he agrees.

“So… you know about Delecto?”

Jackson knows Scott immediately knows the answer from his heartbeat. Fuck werewolf senses. “Delecto?” he asks, as neutrally as possible. 

“French alpha and general bad dude,” Scott says.

“Oh,” Jackson says, feeling relieved. “Yeah, of course. I just didn’t know him by name.”

Scott doesn’t seem to believe him. Of course the true alpha can pick up on his half-truths. “And you know about everything Isaac did for him?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says, with false confidence.

“Jackson... I’m not trying to get in the way of your relationship, but I really don’t think you do.”

Jackson stops walking. He crosses his arms and glowers at the other werewolf. “Sounds like you’re trying to get in the way of my relationship to me.” 

Scott stops too. “I just worry about you, Jackson. He’s an omega. How do you know he’s not manipulating you? You’ve only been together a few months, right?”

A little over a month if you count from their first re-meeting. A little over a week if you count from their first fuck. A few days if you count from them having a serious conversation after meeting with Hamamura. Since when they’ve mostly been fighting. “He’s not manipulating me,” Jackson says firmly. Of course, Isaac _is_ , sometimes, but like Jackson had told him, it’s not like Jackson’s blind to it. Right?

“You know Stiles is FBI now, right? He did some background research, before you guys came down. Isaac’s been under surveillance for years by the French authorities, for being a known associate of Pierre Delecto, who the humans think is a mob boss. Isaac was his driver, among other things. Always by his side.”

“Did you research me too?” Jackson asks coldly.

“Yeah,” Scott says, unapologetic. “I have a pack to protect.”

Jackson swallows. Why is he stupid enough to feel betrayed, to have expected Scott wouldn’t have researched him, that his re-admission to Scott’s pack would have been automatic, unconditional? “I knew,” Jackson says, focusing on the driver part and trying to keep his heartbeat steady. “Isaac told me.”

“The French national police have a whole file on him. Some of it is pretty scary.”

“And you believe all of it? About your old friend?”

“I don’t know. But Isaac’s always been a survivor. And he won’t let me read shit off him now.”

“He’s protecting himself. Can’t imagine why.”

“He doesn’t need protection from me,” Scott scoffs.

“It’s not about you,” Jackson snaps, repeating what Isaac’s told him so many times. “Look, I’m not trying to endanger your pack or anything. We’ll leave as soon as we get back to the house. Thank you for having us.”

“I don’t want you to leave! I just want you to be careful. You’re clearly head over heels for him and I just- I can’t let you get hurt.” And Scott’s crushing him into another bear hug. Jackson stands stiffly. “You’re so fragile, Jackson,” Scott murmurs in a pained tone, so low Jackson almost doesn’t hear it. He pulls himself out of Scott’s embrace.

 _Fragile_? Jackson wasn’t fragile. Jackson had taken down every beta in Scott’s pack that dared challenge him, just a few hours earlier. What the fuck was fragile supposed to mean? “You’re disrespecting me, and my partner,” Jackson snarls. “So we’re going to leave.”

“ _Please_ , Jackson. Look, I just wanted to make sure you were doing this eyes open. I’ll give you a copy of the file if you want, and we can talk more, ok? Promise me you won’t leave until then at least.” Scott turns his best puppy dog expression on Jackson. “Promise me,” Scott says again when Jackson doesn’t respond, in a tone that is only subtly different, but Jackson can hear the alpha in it, can feel the urge in his chest to do what Scott wants, please him.

“Fuck you, McCall. Don’t you ever try that alpha shit on me again.”

Scott’s eyes flash red in annoyance. “Fine. But the pack saved you when you were the kanima, remember? You owe us. Stay at least till you look at the file.”

Jackson growls and flashes blue eyes back at the alpha in unwise challenge. But he can’t deny he owes Scott and his pack, especially Lydia, for life for turning him back human and taking Gerard, the kanima’s master at the time, out of commission. It’s really unfortunate that Lydia is firmly attached to Stilinski and the McCall Pack these days. “Give me the file,” he says.

Scott gives him a conciliatory smile and pulls a manila envelope out of his jacket, which Jackson snatches before turning on his heel and speed-walking back toward the house, ignoring Scott calling after him.

***

Isaac and the others are gathered around the dinner table chatting when Jackson makes it back to the house. Isaac must sense him watching from the hallway outside the dining area, because Jackson sees his smile falter for a moment before he tells the pack it’s time for him to turn in and quickly makes his way to him. Isaac takes his hand and leads him to their room. Jackson hears Scott come in behind them a minute later and strike up a conversation with his betas, but doesn’t turn.

“What’s wrong?” Isaac asks as soon as they’re in their room with the door shut behind them. The house isn’t completely soundproofed like Hamamura’s study, but Jackson can tell they’ve put up some additional soundproofing to make the house more werewolf friendly. “This should be a good day for you. You did great.”

“I need you to tell me about those former alphas you’re always avoiding talking about.”

“What is that?” Isaac asks, looking down at the rolled-up envelope that Jackson’s holding crumpled in his fist. “Why do you have that?”

“I asked you a question.”

“No, you gave me an order.”

“Are you going to obey me for once?”

“It was mostly the one guy. Pierre Delecto. He’s basically a mob boss. The most powerful alpha in France. One of the most powerful people in France period. What do you want to know about him?”

“What did you do for him?”

“Other than let him fuck me, you mean? Whatever he asked. I could convince people to do things for him, without him having to break any kneecaps. Sometimes he sent his enforcers, and sometimes he sent me. He thought I was nice scenery too, liked having me around to look pretty for him and his friends. That’s how I got the job as his driver.”

“Did you hurt people?” Jackson asks, despite knowing the answer will be yes.

Isaac lets his eyes glow gold for a moment, presumably to remind Jackson he’s never killed, unlike Jackson himself. “I facilitated hurting a lot of people. I didn’t kick and scream and protest the whole time. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“If it’s the truth.”

“It is.”

“But he forced you?” Jackson asks hopefully.

“It didn’t seem so bad at first. Argent took me to France, and Pierre noticed me, and said he’d take me in. He made me feel special, desired, in a way Derek and Scott never did. I told Argent to leave me there and I guess he thought I’d be better off with other werewolves, so he did. Pierre can be very charming. He’s a politician at heart, he knows how to say what you want to hear.”

Jackson laughs ruefully. “Did you learn that from him?” He mentally adds Chris Argent to his list of enemies for leaving a fifteen-year-old Isaac in a strange country in the custody of a mob boss.

“Yes. He taught me lots of things.”

“But you ran away?”

“I tried to say no to some things, and he wasn’t the type of person who took no for an answer. Certainly not from some orphaned omega. I ran away lots of times, but he always came after me. The first time he found me, he massacred the entire pack that had taken me in. No other werewolves in Paris would help me after that, I had to run farther each time, and I was a lot more wary of letting other wolves help me. I made it out of the country a few times, and he found me then too. Sometimes running was too difficult, and I convinced myself being his pet omega wasn’t that bad, and I went back on my own. London was the farthest I’d made it. Until Palo Alto.”

Jackson swallows. None of it is surprising when he thinks about it, but it’s still horrifying to hear out loud what Isaac had gone through, especially about Isaac being desperate enough to go back to Delecto on his own. He vaguely wonders if Ethan had put himself and the Clarke Pack at risk, trying to help Jackson’s packmate even after Jackson had left him. “Anyone else I need to worry about?”

“A couple of other alphas took me in, but they were assholes, and none of them bothered to put up a fight or try and get me back after Pierre would come for me. So, no, I don’t think so.”

Jackson considers all of this, and slowly uncrumples the envelope he’s holding too tight, trying ineffectually to smooth it out again.

“What is that?” Isaac asks again. 

“It’s the file the French national police have on you.”

“How’d you get it?”

“Scott. He got it from Stiles.”

“Did you ask him for it? You read it before talking to me?!”

Jackson looks up in surprise and indignation. “I wouldn’t have even known to ask, because you didn’t tell me any of this! And I haven’t read it yet.”

Isaac’s mouth purses. “Of course you got it from Scott,” he says bitterly.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jackson demands.

“How come Scott’s allowed to call you ‘Jacks’? You nearly drove the car off the road when I tried it. You have been all over his dick ever since we got here. Actually, ever since he called you.”

“What are you-” Jackson stares at him in confusion, unsure what this has to do with anything. He comes to what seems like the only logical conclusion. “Are you seriously jealous that Scott’s paying attention to me? Fuck, I knew it. I knew you still loved him and I drove you here anyway.”

Isaac stares at him. “You cannot possibly be this monumentally stupid. I’m not in love with Scott. That was just a high school crush. We were never even together.”

“I was just your high school crush!” Jackson cries, affronted, although he’s glad to hear Isaac affirm that he’d never actually been with Scott.

“Yeah. You were. So what, do you think I spent the last six years pining over you?” Isaac sneers.

Jackson flinches, and decides not to dignify that with a response. “If you don’t like Scott, then why are you mad Scott calls me some dumb nickname?”

“Do you seriously not notice that Scott acts like you’re his possession? Some toy that he never played with but someone else tried to take it away and now he wants it?”

Jackson blinks at him in confusion.

“Scott is not your friend. He is a dangerous alpha werewolf. He wanted you to dance and you fucking danced.”

Jackson gapes at him. How had he completely missed that Isaac apparently didn’t even _like_ Scott? “You don’t trust Scott? Our Scott? Scott ‘Puppy Dog’ McCall?”

“Did you miss the part where he pulled you aside behind my back and gave you a police file on me? The harmless puppy thing is a face that goes on and off. He’s not a puppy dog, and you know it. I know it, if you don’t.”

“I don’t think Scott’s insincere, though,” Jackson protests. “He was just looking out for me. Isn’t that what a good alpha does?”

“What about looking out for me?” Isaac demands, voice shaking.

Jackson doesn’t have an answer to that.

“I had this fantasy, for a long time, that he was looking for me. That he’d come rescue me. My _real_ alpha,” Isaac says in a faraway voice, that then hardens. “It was just childish, I get that now. He didn’t owe me shit, so I can’t be angry about that. But that means I don’t owe him shit either. And I _can_ be angry about him trying to break us up. And _you_ ,” he adds viciously. “Oh my god, Jackson, this whole need for approval from an authority figure? It’s fucking pathetic, how badly you want to roll over for him. How do you expect me to ever trust you if all you want is to please him? I thought I chose an alpha.”

Jackson takes a step back, feeling gutted. “I fucking offered to become an alpha for you,” he says, hating how defensive he sounds. “And you told me I didn’t have to. Not only that, but you just told me a few days ago I need alpha guidance.”

“I meant I don’t need the red eyes, Jackson. And you can take some guidance if it’s helpful, but I want you to see your own worth, stand up for yourself more. You shouldn’t have had to audition like that.”

“I auditioned for Hamamura,” Jackson protests. “And for my London pack.”

“Yeah, but those were packs that legitimately didn’t know you and Scott’s acting like you’re old buddies. And Scott clearly let everyone else into his pack without it. He was trying to humiliate you. And you just _let_ him.”

Jackson glowers at him. “Maybe you should stop assuming I’m a complete idiot. I hurt his feelings, he wanted to punish me a little. I wasn’t blind to it.”

“You’re letting him start you off in the pack that way. It sets the footing for forever. And what is it that you did, that he has a legitimate reason to be upset about? How many times did he check in on you, when you were in London? Was it ever when he didn’t need something?”

“He sent me Merry Christmas texts,” Jackson admits, but with no small amount of challenge in his tone. “I didn’t initiate with him either, though. He’s trying now, isn’t he?” Jackson can’t truly bring himself to believe that Isaac’s been playing him this whole time _or_ that Scott could have malintent toward anyone, but maybe Jackson had been a bit too trusting, too eager to believe what he wanted to believe about both men. But Isaac’s just identified a bigger issue, hasn’t he. Jackson forces out the next words. “But you just told me I’m not alpha enough for you, so I guess we’re breaking up, huh.”

Isaac opens his mouth, but when he takes too long to answer, Jackson grabs his pillow. He lets the envelope drop to the floor. Isaac’s eyes follow it. “I’ll go sleep on the couch.”

“No, please!” Isaac gasps desperately, looking back up and grabbing Jackson’s arms. “Please. Let’s just get through this trip, ok. We’re both tired and it’s been a lot and - we just need to go home. Where it’s just you and me. And we’ll figure this out. You can read the file. We can read it together; I don’t even know what’s in it!”

Jackson’s so confused. So tired. It seems like he can’t ever be what Isaac wants or needs, can’t ever make him happy. “Are you afraid Scott’s betas are going to attack you or something?” Jackson asks incredulously.

“If I say yes, will that make you stay?” Isaac asks frantically.

Jackson tries to remember that he’s Jackson fucking Whittemore. That he has the slightest modicum of self-respect. That there was a time when he didn’t bend over backwards at the slightest request from this omega. But all he can actually feel is pathetic and self-loathing and unable to live up to anyone’s expectations, let alone of being an alpha. If Isaac is willing to tolerate him anyway, can he really bring himself to let him go?

He pulls out of Isaac’s tight grip and drops the pillow back on the bed. After a moment, he gets into it, as close to the edge as he can possibly get, his back to Isaac. He’s not going to cry. He repeats it to himself, over and over and over again. He looks at the back of his hands and imagines he sees scales shimmer across them and shudders.

After a moment, he feels Isaac get into bed as well, thankfully maintaining a generous distance. He hears Isaac whisper his name after a long time, but pretends to be asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pierre Delecto is Mitt Romney's secret twitter account. This is not supposed to be him, I was just amusing myself using the name.


	15. Derek’s smiling at Jackson like they’re old friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson tries to summon up surprise to see Derek Hale, but it just feels inevitable at this point that Isaac’s first lover slash alpha slash statutory rapist, who also happens to be the closest thing Jackson had to a high school bully, would show up on this day to see how pathetic Jackson is.

Jackson hardly sleeps. He gives up around 4:30 a.m. and leaves the house to work out, pretending not to notice coyote Malia when she tries to find him around sunrise and deliberately going the opposite direction to avoid her. He only returns to the house when it’s obvious lingering longer will look suspicious. 

Corey is on breakfast duty, and places Jackson’s usual in front of him with a nervous smile. It doesn’t taste as good as when Isaac makes it. Isaac is nowhere to be seen, presumably sleeping in. Jackson hopes that no one had overheard him and Isaac arguing the night before, and if anyone had, they’re thankfully too polite to mention it. Scott grabs some food to go and rushes out the door shortly after Jackson sits down, shooting Jackson a pleading look, presumably to not change his mind and leave immediately.

It’s Liam today who insists Jackson come train with him, Theo and Alec. Corey and Mason beg off, but Malia says she’ll join too. Jackson agrees quickly, needing the distraction. Jackson’s reluctantly impressed as Liam describes each move Jackson had made against all three of them the day prior and demands Jackson teach each one to him. Liam’s a good student, surprisingly non-egotistical. Theo and Alec are more wary, but watch from not too far away and eventually start demanding Jackson teach them as well as the day progresses. Malia turns out to be excellent and teaches Jackson a few tricks of her own, although her main interest seems to be torturing Theo by kicking his ass repeatedly. Theo seems to harbor a small crush on her and gamely plays along with every one of her challenges anyway.

Jackson throws himself into training completely, refusing to think about Isaac or Scott.

He runs the group through pair and group exercises, having a little too much fun tying up each of them in turn with rope with wolfbane woven into it, and challenging their packmates to take Jackson down together and free the prisoner. The rope has been sitting in the trunk of his car since he’d arrived in Palo Alto – he’s found it a good idea to keep a hunter kit on hand. It burns his hands to tie knots with the wolfsbane rope, but he knows from experience it hurts worse to be tied up in it. Malia takes one look at the rope and says she’s going to take a break and disappears back into the house. Liam manages to hold Jackson off long enough for Alec to untie Theo, but when it’s Alec’s turn to be tied up, Jackson has to untie poor Alec himself after several minutes because Liam and Theo are arguing too much to work well together. He chews Liam and Theo out and punishes Liam by tying him up next, only quite a bit tighter. He’ll risk Scott’s wrath in case Liam is actually his favorite, he decides.

But he can’t deny all the betas are growing on him. The sight of Alec’s brave, stoic young face as his eyes helplessly leaked tears of pain had been too much for Jackson to bear longer than a few minutes. Liam’s clearly feeling guilty about letting Alec get burned as well, which Jackson appreciates, as well as his being a good sport about pretty much everything so far. Theo is a little harder to read, but he does seem to be trying harder to actually be a good teammate this round, and Jackson appreciates his dedication to Malia. Jackson can’t put his finger on it, but he just likes Malia, even if she’d deemed herself too good for his wolfbane rope exercise.

A new scent enters the backyard, vaguely familiar to Jackson, and all four of them turn to look at the new arrival. Jackson tries to summon up surprise to see Derek Hale, but it just feels inevitable at this point that Isaac’s first lover slash alpha slash statutory rapist, who also happens to be the closest thing Jackson had to a high school bully, would show up on this day to see how pathetic Jackson is.

Derek’s smiling at Jackson like they’re old friends, although Jackson thinks there’s a hint of a smirk to it. “Hey, boys. Jackson, it’s good to see you. I didn’t know you were in town.”

“Untie him,” Jackson says quickly in Theo’s direction.

“No need to stop on my account,” Derek says. “Looks like you’re having fun in my little playpen.” Jackson swallows, the makeshift jungle gym having been built by Derek, rather than Scott, makes the whole experience bitter, suddenly. “You going to take a turn too?”

“TBD,” Jackson says. “I didn’t know you were in town either. In fact I was specifically told you were not.”

“Yeah,” Derek says. “Scott wanted me to find some book, but our lead was a bust, so I came back early. Lucky thing, too, I would have hated to have missed you and Isaac. Is he around?”

“I’m sure. I think he’s sleeping in.”

Derek smirks. “Yeah, I remember trying to get him to go to school on time was an adventure.” Jackson’s hands ball into fists, and he can feel his claws extend into them, can smell the blood leak out. The casual mention, as if Derek had only acted as a responsible pseudo-parent to Isaac, is beyond infuriating. “And… you and Isaac?” Derek asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah. Me and Isaac,” Jackson finds himself saying for the second time in as many days.

“Huh. Wouldn’t have thought it,” Derek says, and Jackson’s not sure what the look on Derek’s face is, but he knows he wants to punch it right off. “Speaking of fun I’ve missed out on, I’m told everyone else got a chance to go up against the great Jackson Whittemore?”

Jackson remembers the time Derek had told him no one cared about him, expensive car, perfect hair and captain of the lacrosse team or not. He remembers Derek telling him Jackson was a coward who had lived every moment of his life in fear. Jackson had still been human at the time. He knows exactly what Derek means by ‘great’. By ‘wouldn’t have thought it’.

“Yeah,” Jackson says.

Derek waits for a moment, but Jackson doesn’t continue. “Do I get to take a turn too?” Derek asks.

Jackson throws his arms out in welcome. “Why the hell not. I’m here.” It’s not like Jackson has anything left to lose.

“Scott isn’t,” Alec pipes up, the little suck-up, but Jackson appreciates it.

“And Jackson’s already in the pack,” Liam says firmly, even as he rubs his hands over his still rope-burned arms and glares at Jackson.

“Of course he is,” Derek says, eyeing Jackson with an odd glint in his eye. “Jackson’s my firstbitten, just like you’re Scott’s.”

Meaning he’s welcome in Scott’s pack only by virtue of being Derek’s? The Hales, Jackson decides, are fucking creepy. The whole lot of them, Derek’s Uncle Peter doesn’t have a monopoly, despite all his murdering.

“What do you say, Jackson?” Derek asks. “Just for old times’ sake?”

The only old times he could be referring to are the couple of full moons right after Jackson had become a werewolf but before he’d left for London, when Derek and Scott had given him a crash course in controlling his wolf. Neither had been particularly helpful, but Jackson mostly remembers avoiding Derek as much as possible and sticking to Scott’s side. Jackson had spent zero time with them outside the full moons that summer, although at least Scott had texted a few other times trying to check in. Jackson had ignored him and everyone else who’d tried to contact him that summer, even Lydia and Danny, only reluctantly arranging to meet with Derek and Scott for the full moons because he refused to lose control again.

“Ok,” Jackson says, because it doesn’t seem like there’s any other alternative.

Liam, Theo and Alec give each other looks but apparently decide it’s not worth trying to protect Derek and Jackson from their own idiocy and head back to the porch to watch. Jackson holds his own for several minutes, but he keeps making stupid mistakes and he knows it. He feels itchy, unstable. He swears he sees scales on the backs of his hands, but they’re gone when he blinks. That doesn’t happen anymore, he tells himself. The only outward kanima features he can access, and that too with difficulty, are the slit-pupil reptilian eyes that allow him to see infrared, the kanima venom laced claws, and the prehensile tail. Bringing out and controlling even those had taken over a year and was still a work in progress. He can feel other kanima features sometimes, asking to be let out, but always turns them down. He’s always told himself he has the three most helpful attributes anyway. The weapon-resistant scaly skin would have been nice, but Jackson can’t bring himself to even try, the thought of being completely enveloped in kanima skin, even if he could remain conscious and in control, makes him shudder.

And before Jackson quite knows what’s happening, Derek’s got him on the ground, and he’s fucking sitting on him, and damn he is a heavy bastard. Derek holds his claws to Jackson’s throat and laughs. Jackson wonders what else could occur to make this the worst twenty-four hours of his life (excepting kanima time, obviously, but Jackson maintains he has the right to still be dramatic sometimes). The sun is glinting into his eyes and he throws an arm over them, not caring if he looks like a drama queen.

“Aw, Jackson, don’t be so glum. It’s not like we were playing when it counted, yeah? Traditional rules and all that.” Derek laughs again.

“What traditional rules?” Liam hisses at his packmates on the porch, probably intending to be quiet, but audible to Jackson’s werewolf hearing.

“Like he gets a go at Jackson’s omega?” Alec suggests, sounding uncomfortable.

Jackson, or at least his body, reacts immediately. He extracts himself out from under Derek and stands, hissing at him. His kanima tail, which has whipped out on its own for the first time since he’d become a werewolf, grabs Derek by the throat and raises him up just off the ground, slowly choking him out. Derek is trying to say something, but Jackson isn’t interested in hearing it. Jackson is a weapon of vengeance. And he has a lot of vengeance to seek, for himself and his beloved. The heat distribution in the backyard is suddenly oddly perceptible, meaning his eyes have switched to kanima as well, again without his conscious intent.

The werewolf’s thick neck is annoyingly resistant to crushing, so Jackson’s tail throws him against a tree on the opposite side of the backyard instead, before Jackson leaps across the yard to stand in front of him, where the werewolf is looking dazed half-crumpled against the ground at the foot of the tree. Jackson’s paralytic-laced kanima claws whip out and swipe across Derek’s face. If the paralytic hadn’t been near instantaneous, Jackson suspects the werewolf would have been howling out in pain. He cocks his head to the side and gazes at his prey, considering what to use as a killing blow when he scents his beloved. He turns to see Isaac running up to them, so fast he’s almost a blur.

“Jackson,” Isaac whispers, stopping a few feet away from them. “Come away from there, ok? Come to me. Your omega.”

Jackson looks at Isaac. No. It’s a lie. Isaac isn’t his omega, because Isaac wants and deserves an alpha. But that’s ok. Jackson doesn’t need an omega. Jackson only needs vengeance. He turns back to kill his prey.

But then his beloved is on him, physically dragging him away from his prey. Doesn’t he know how dangerous that is?!

Jackson allows Isaac to drag him a few feet away, and then turns to rail on him for putting himself in danger, but Isaac places both his hands over Jackson’s face before he can speak. Isaac’s looking at him very, very solemnly and then leans forward and pecks Jackson on the lips. Jackson goes to deepen the kiss, claim his beloved, but there’s a faintly remembered thick sticky feeling in his mouth, and he thinks his saliva might paralyze Isaac, which would be suboptimal. He shifts back into human form and staggers a bit. He stares down at his hands, which are covered in blood and god knows what else. He has some suspicion there might be some retinal fluid. He’s distantly aware that people are shouting behind him. Fuck. _Fuck_. “I didn’t mean-” he begins.

“Shh,” Isaac says. “Can you change into Jacky for me?”

Jackson tries to glance behind himself but Isaac grabs his face and forces it back toward him before Jackson can see anything.

“Can you change into Jacky for me?” Isaac repeats more urgently. 

Jacky. Jacky is his full-shift wolf form. About as far as he can get from the kanima side of his nature. And exactly who he needs to be right now. He shifts without even undressing, leaving Isaac to swear and try and strip his clothes off, before Isaac eventually gives up and cuts them open with his claws. “Go for a run. I’ll come find you. Don’t come back to the house. Ok?”

Wolf Jackson nods and bounds off around the side of the house, running several blocks until he finds a copse of trees that could arguably be called woods. 


	16. like at the police station

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott shudders and turns to Jackson. “You did it on your own then, on purpose?” he asks uncertainly. “To get revenge for Isaac?”
> 
> Jackson isn’t sure what the worse answer is. Either it was premeditated and he’s an attempted murderer or he’s out of control. Again. And needs to be put down. Again.
> 
> “He stopped,” Isaac says. “He spared him. Derek’s going to make a full recovery.”
> 
> “The betas said you had scales,” Scott says to Jackson, voice a little shaky. “You still looked human, but there were scales all over your arms and face. Like at the police station.”

The woods are not very large, and wolf Jackson is anxiously exploring them for the umpteenth time when he’s interrupted. It’s Isaac, Scott and Malia; in half-shift, human and full-shift forms respectively.

Jackson shifts back into human immediately. “Is Derek ok?” he asks hoarsely. Isaac, who’s back in human form as well, hands him some sweats and a t-shirt which he pulls on, blushing. One would think he’d have gotten used to finding himself unexpectedly naked by now, but no such luck.

Malia shifts back to human without any apparent concern about her nakedness, although Isaac tosses her a dress which she pulls on.

“Derek’s probably going to be fine,” Scott says, tone unreadable. “His eye was pretty bad, but it’s starting to heal already. And you crushed a lot of bones, throwing him that hard.”

“We told you,” Isaac says to Scott. “We told you to keep him away.”

“And I sent him on a mission, since you asked. I didn’t think things were so dire that if he came back early, your psycho boyfriend was going to try and kill my second,” Scott snaps.

“Scott!” Malia cries.

“Maybe you should have asked, then,” Isaac grits out. “How dire things were.”

Scott looks a little chastised, but doesn’t respond, just crossing his arms over his chest and glaring.

“Do you know how your second treated me, when he was my alpha?” Isaac asks.

“Isaac,” Jackson says urgently. “You don’t have to do this.”

Isaac holds up a hand. “It’s ok, Jackson,” he says, eyes firmly on Scott. “I was fifteen. He told me he could offer me a way out, from my father. Made me a werewolf. He was kind of violent, but he had nothing on my dad, so I didn’t mind that much. Then he told me I was an omega and started fucking me. And then he threw me out in the middle of a rainstorm without any warning or notice, and you had to take me in. That’s why I kept throwing myself at you after, because Derek told me anyone would want an omega, that an omega wanted, _needed_ an alpha to own them. I couldn’t understand what was so wrong with me that you wouldn’t treat me like your omega, like he had. I didn’t even think about being your boyfriend or anything like that. He was the first person who taught me how a _good_ omega was supposed to be.”

Scott looks conflicted. “But… you were still a beta then.”

Isaac rolls his eyes. “I was always an omega, Scott. You just didn’t know it yet because I… wasn’t fully mature, and you hadn’t been a werewolf much longer than me.”

Scott’s silent for a long moment. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” he says finally. Jackson hopes he’s only imagining the _if it’s true_ lingering around the words.“And I promise you I will talk to Derek about it. But did you force Jackson? Are you taking advantage of him, acting as the kanima’s master?!”

Jackson feels the cold hatred rolling off Isaac toward Scott like a slap in the face. Scott clearly does too, from his wince.

“Not that I need to explain myself to you,” Isaac says icily. “But no.”

Scott shudders and turns to Jackson. “You did it on your own then, on purpose?” he asks uncertainly. “To get revenge for Isaac?”

Jackson isn’t sure what the worse answer is. Either it was premeditated and he’s an attempted murderer or he’s out of control. Again. And needs to be put down. Again.

“He stopped,” Isaac says. “He spared him. Derek’s going to make a full recovery.”

“The betas said you had scales,” Scott says to Jackson, voice a little shaky. “You still looked human, but there were scales all over your arms and face. Like at the police station.”

The police station. Where the kanima had massacred almost the entire Beacon Hills Sherriff’s department in one night. Where Jackson had definitely not been in control, but his face, per later reports from Scott’s pack, had been recognizable as his own despite the smattering of iridescent blue-gray-green scales. His human mind had been absent, only the kanima present and of course, the kanima’s master, Isaac’s old friend Matt, pulling his strings.

But Jackson knows he needs help. And it doesn’t seem like Isaac is likely to provide the killing Jackson kind of help. Maybe Peter Hale’s back in town too. They could all have a reenactment of 2011, Derek and Peter working together to kill Jackson. “That hasn’t happened since I turned into a werewolf,” Jackson says. “I can access some features… but the scales haven’t come back, before today.”

“Jackson,” Isaac hisses at him in horror, but Jackson just smiles at him and wraps an arm around his waist, before leaning on him heavily. Isaac staggers a little but readjusts and stays upright despite Jackson’s dead weight. 

“Do you think it was a one-time slip?” Malia asks uncertainly. 

“Probably,” Jackson says brightly. “I was kind of having a bad day. Isaac dumped me.” It occurs to him a moment too late that this is exactly what Scott had feared, had meant by Jackson being _fragile_. That if Jackson’s heart got broken, Jackson might lose control and put everyone at risk.

Isaac’s fingers dig into Jackson’s side reflexively and Jackson turns to look at him. Isaac’s eyes are filled with tears. “I didn’t,” Isaac whispers. “I didn’t. I thought you dumped me for being a bad person. And I undump you if you think I did.” Isaac turns back to the others before Jackson can protest that Isaac’s not a bad person. “You’re not killing him,” Isaac says, all bravado. “It’s only happened once, in over six years. We just shouldn’t have come here, that’s all. Digging up the past doesn’t do anyone any good. We’ll leave, and we’ll just stay away from Jackson’s triggers, like _your pack_.”

“But,” Malia says, bottom lip quavering a little. “Jackson’s my brother. I don’t want him to leave. He’s Peter’s son, I’m sure of it.”

Jackson stares at her, unable to process this insane theory on this insane day. “My birth parents were called the Millers and they died in a car accident,” Jackson explains reasonably. “They cut me out of my birth mom’s womb after she was already dead.”

“Then she’s your birth mom,” Malia says. “But that doesn’t mean Peter’s not your dad. He certainly wasn’t faithful to my birth mom. You just smelled so familiar. I haven’t gotten the results of the DNA test from your hair back, but I’m sure.”

Jackson gapes at her. Of all the things he’d have thought she wanted his hair for, a paternity test against Peter Hale would not have occurred to him as an option.

“I don’t see what this has to do with anything,” Isaac snaps. “Peter’s probably got tons of kids, then, you guys can set up a Facebook group for it. We’re still leaving. Didn’t you have like zero interest in being Peter’s daughter?”

“I did. I already had a really good dad and I was seventeen and I’d spent eight years as a coyote and Peter was… Peter. But Peter’s in my life now and he’s not so bad these days. And I’d like Jackson in my life too, if he wants.”

“I wasn’t a born werewolf!” Jackson protests, still unwilling to accept this theory, although even Isaac seems to have bought into it. If true, this feels like the final straw that will break any sanity he has left. Peter Hale is a murderer and all-around creep. Among his many other victims, Peter had killed his own niece, Derek’s older sister Laura, to steal her alpha powers and become an alpha, before Derek had stolen his alpha powers in turn. Even Derek doesn’t like Peter, even if Peter is a reluctantly accepted ally of the McCall Pack these days. If Peter really is Jackson’s biological father, then there’s no chance left of Jackson being a good person, is there? And if Peter is his biological father, then Derek, who he almost killed today, who he hates violently, is his _first_ _cousin_. Really, Jackson’s well on his way to being a Hale, with his track record of murder and attempted murder, including against his own blood. 

“You wouldn’t necessarily be,” Scott says reluctantly, perhaps sensing Jackson’s vehement desire to not be a Hale. “Since your birth mom was human. I think Malia’s right though, I smell it too.” He takes a step forward. “You should stay here with us,” he says, holding out a hand to Jackson. “So we can take care of you.”

Jackson can practically hear Scott thinking _fragile_. He takes a step back and watches in amazement as Isaac, who couldn’t beat Scott in a fight under any circumstances, goes into half-shift, steps in front of Jackson and snarls at Scott. He’s not about to let his idiot, brave omega challenge an alpha who already distrusts him and get himself killed, though. “Shift back, now,” he murmurs into Isaac’s ear, before stepping in front of him. Isaac hisses in dissatisfaction but obeys. “I’m not a child,” Jackson says to Scott. “But I did attack your second. What would you demand for satisfaction?” he asks, remembering Hamamura’s words to him about the young thieves stealing from Isaac.

Scott looks ready to cry. “Fine,” he sniffs. “If you’re going to be like that – I demand you stay.”

“Until when.”

“Until we figure this out!”

“That might never happen. And we have an appointment Saturday that we can’t break.”

Scott’s eyes flash red. “She doesn’t even know you.” he roars. “She can’t help you!”

“Can you?” Jackson asks. “Have you discovered a way to cure kanimaism? Because if I recall correctly, last time’s solution was turning me back human long enough for my apparent long-lost family to kill me!”

“Derek and Peter didn’t exactly clear that part with me, and you know it. We’d only gotten as far as turning you back human. But we’ll figure out a way,” Scott says, with such determination Jackson almost believes him. “We always do. And we’ve learned a lot since then.” Scott clutches at his chest, over his heart. “I’m your alpha. Not her. I can feel it, in here,” he says. “I could always feel it, no matter how far you went, but I think it’s been stronger since you came back to California. Definitely even stronger since you came to the pack house.”

Jackson sneers at him, doesn’t say he’s always felt the answering pull in his own chest, had felt it so strongly he’d abandoned five years with Ethan and his whole life in London for it. He wonders if that means he can blame Scott for ruining the life he’d so carefully built for himself. He wants to ask why he hadn’t heard from Scott more often than once a year, most years, if Scott cared so much.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Isaac says to Scott. “Your betas are going to be terrified, they just watched Jackson almost kill your second, who I assume they like, seemingly without provocation.”

“He did provoke me,” Jackson protests miserably. “He did lots of things to provoke me.”

“Of course he did,” Isaac says soothingly, rubbing Jackson’s arm. “It’s just they don’t know that.”

“You let me worry about my betas,” Scott snaps. “Jackson’s staying. You can stay too, since I assume he’ll insist. _Your_ bond to me broke almost six years ago. When you pledged loyalty to Pierre Delecto, I’m guessing. I felt it like part of me getting ripped out.”

Jackson looks at Isaac in horror, wonders if he still technically recognizes Delecto as his alpha, without any suitable replacement, if he feels a pull back to France, like Jackson had felt a pull back to California. If it makes him feel like Jackson had, always incomplete, always missing his alpha and pack. Worse, he wonders if Delecto can feel Isaac.

“Do you think you’d have been able to find me with just the bond?” Jackson asks Scott urgently, turning back to face him. “If you had to?”

Scott looks confused at the shift in topic but answers anyway. “I don’t think so, why? It’s not like I knew you were in Palo Alto. I could just feel the bond was a bit stronger, but I wasn’t sure why. Since late August, maybe? Is that when you moved?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says. “Is Delecto still your alpha?” he asks Isaac. “Do you feel him?”

Isaac shrugs miserably. “I don’t think so. It’s not like it used to be when I was with him, something definitely broke when I ran away the last time and met you again.”

Jackson takes a deep breath. “We’ll stay for now.” He squeezes Isaac’s hand where it’s rubbing his arm to forestall his protests. Jackson turns to Malia. “I’m sorry you didn’t get a better brother out of all this.”

She jumps at him, squeezing him tight. “You’re just fine.” She flashes blue eyes at him meaningfully, and Jackson remembers what Isaac had said, about her accidentally killing her own adoptive family. Jackson’s not sure why she’s so willing to give him a chance, but he doesn’t want to look the gift horse in the mouth. No artifice with her, Isaac had said. Even though he’s doubting his trust instincts these days, Jackson believes she means well, if only because he wants to give her a chance just as badly.

They walk back to the house in silence, Scott and Malia leading the way and Jackson and Isaac behind them. Isaac clutches Jackson’s arm like Jackson might be snatched away at any moment. They look at each other, standing in Scott’s front yard. Isaac’s eyes look huge in the twilight. “We’re getting a hotel,” Jackson announces. “We’ll be back in the morning.”

“But-” Scott begins, from where he’s standing in the doorway with Malia right outside.

“Let them go,” Malia says. “It’s just overnight. And Isaac knows I’ll personally kill him if anything happens to Jackson, right?” She flashes werecoyote blue eyes at Isaac.

Jackson frowns at her. “I’m pretty sure being overprotective is my thing. When’s your birthday?”

“November 1994,” she says, crossing her arms.

“Mine’s June, so guess I’m older. Quit threatening my boyfriend.”

Malia rolls her eyes. “Just get in here and grab your stuff before Scott changes his mind.”

Scott sputters. “I didn’t agree in the first place.”

“Lucky for you Hales are so pleasant and easy to manage, huh, since you wound up with no less than four in your pack?” Malia says. 

Jackson peeks around Scott and then makes a beeline for his and Isaac’s room when he sees the coast is clear of the rest of the pack.

“At least Cora has a different alpha now,” Isaac says sweetly, patting Scott on the shoulder as he walks past him into the house. “Or it might have been five.”


	17. no takesy-backsies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson takes a breath. “I don’t know if you’ve figured this out by now,” he says gruffly. “But I wasn’t doing so well, before you came back into my life.” 
> 
> “I know,” Isaac says, sounding on the verge of tears. “That’s exactly why I should have been more careful. I didn’t mean to push you over the edge.”
> 
> Jackson wonders if everyone in the world thinks he’s some fragile piece of glass. Wonders if it’s true. “You didn’t mess my life up. You kind of saved me.” He swallows. “And I’m not – I’m not broken.”

They manage to avoid the notice of the rest of the pack and make it back to Jackson’s Audi. Jackson’s hard-pressed to believe it’s only been two days and three nights since they’d shown up in Los Angeles. Being back in the driver seat of his car feels good, feels like being back in control. He starts driving immediately, vaguely in the direction of downtown, no particular destination in mind.

“Are we going to Palo Alto?” Isaac asks hopefully. It hadn’t escaped Jackson’s notice that Isaac had swiftly packed up everything for both of them and left nothing behind.

“Soon,” Jackson promises. “Not tonight.”

“You don’t owe Scott anything.”

“It’s not for him,” Jackson says. “It’s for me. I lost control today. That doesn’t happen. I do want some help with that.”

“I can help you,” Isaac protests. “Or maybe it really was just a one-time thing, you were completely fine for over _six years_ before Derek showed up, right?”

“Right. But it’s just a day or two,” Jackson says. “Can you book us a hotel downtown? Somewhere nice. Here, I have an app for last minute bookings.” He unlocks his phone and opens the app up, before handing it to Isaac.

“Does this place count as nice?” Isaac asks, reading off a hotel description from Jackson’s phone.

“Let’s get it,” Jackson says.

Isaac books the hotel and types the address into Jackson’s map app. They drive in silence for a while. Jackson zones out and just focuses on driving, exhausted from the day’s events. 

“Did you mean what you said to Malia? About me being your boyfriend?”

Jackson looks at him in surprise. “Of course. What else would you be?”

Isaac shrugs and tries to look nonchalant. “I don’t know. You only ever call me your omega, so that.”

“You’re that too.”

Isaac is silent for uncharacteristically long and Jackson turns to look at him, concerned. Isaac’s eyes are suspiciously shiny.

“Isaac?”

“I’m so sorry,” Isaac blurts out. “You’re alpha enough for me, I promise. Just the way you are. I was just upset.”

Jackson knows it hadn’t just been because Isaac had been upset. That he’s going to have to work on his insecurities and blindspots if he’s ever to become the alpha Isaac sees in him, the man Isaac deserves. But he doesn’t want to argue with Isaac about it right now, he just wants to curl overly tight around him and pretend none of the last couple days had happened. “I should have reacted better. Not trusted Scott over you.” 

“I should have told you earlier, about Delecto,” Isaac says.

Jackson sighs. “It’s fine, Isaac. We only just started this thing. It’s unreasonable for me to get upset I don’t know everything about you already.”

“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” Isaac says.

Jackson opens his mouth to protest, and then closes it. He is really, really stupid. Of course Isaac’s never had a real boyfriend. And Jackson hasn’t been tempering his expectations accordingly. He makes himself smile. “Well, can I be yours?”

“I didn’t mean to mess your life up,” Isaac says, looking down at his lap where he’s wringing his hands. “None of this would have happened if I hadn’t shown up in your town uninvited.”

Jackson takes a breath. “I don’t know if you’ve figured this out by now,” he says gruffly. “But I wasn’t doing so well, before you came back into my life.” 

“I know,” Isaac says, sounding on the verge of tears. “That’s exactly why I should have been more careful. I didn’t mean to push you over the edge.”

Jackson wonders if everyone in the world thinks he’s some fragile piece of glass. Wonders if it’s true. “You didn’t mess my life up. You kind of saved me.” He swallows. “And I’m not – I’m not broken.”

“Oh, Jackson,” Isaac breathes. “I know you’re strong. But it’s ok to need help sometimes. Especially from me. I shouldn’t push you so hard.”

“I should – I should be stronger. You should be able to rely on me. You’re my omega.”

“I’m your _boyfriend_ ,” Isaac says. “You just said so. No takesy-backsies.”

Jackson laughs a little. “Is that a yes, then? Took you long enough.”

“I was so jealous,” Isaac says in a rush. “I was so jealous of Ethan, you have no idea. I already hated him from before and you took him seriously, you loved him so much, and I was just some omega whore, no one you’d ever-”

“Isaac,” Jackson says, cutting him off. 

Isaac stops talking.

Jackson frowns. Clearly, he needs to make some things clear. “You know you’re mine, right?” Isaac nods uncertainly. “You’re not a bad person. For the record. You said that earlier. I never thought you were. I was just - shocked. Horrified. For you, not by you. And you’re not a whore.” Isaac still looks like he might cry, so Jackson adds, injecting just enough alpha command into his tone, “Don’t talk about my omega that way.”

Isaac swallows and nods again, eyes wide. 

“Or my boyfriend, either,” Jackson adds, just because he can, a little sulkily because he’s still a touch annoyed at how long it had taken Isaac to accept.

Jackson can feel Isaac’s lust pheromones filling the small car. “I grabbed your rope,” Isaac says casually. “It’s in the trunk of the car. How come Scott’s betas got you to tie them up before I did?”

“What?” Jackson asks incredulously. “It’s rope with wolfsbane woven into it, Isaac, it burns. I wouldn’t ever use that on you.”

“I don’t care,” Isaac purrs. “If you tied me up, wouldn’t you want to make sure I was really trapped?”

“No,” Jackson growls. “I’d want to know that you were right where I’d put you because you really wanted to be, even though you could escape any time you wanted.”

The level of pheromones ticks up. “I see,” Isaac says after a long breath. “So… regular rope?”

“Rope’s still going to hurt,” Jackson says, frowning. “Maybe some velvet or something.”

“Oh, come on,” Isaac says. “I’m a werewolf. I demand at least regular rope.”

Jackson turns to give Isaac a stern look. “Maybe you should stop making demands, omega.”

Isaac smirks at him.

They check into the hotel and make their way up to a hotel room Jackson deems adequate, the back wall entirely glass, offering an unobstructed view of the Los Angeles skyline. The mattress on the bed is a little too plush for his liking, so he strips Isaac and fucks him against the window instead, using one hand to trap his wrists together above his head to prove he doesn’t need any rope, and the other to jealously turn Isaac’s face back to Jackson every time he tosses it to the side. It’s not like anyone can see them so high up, but Isaac’s face when he’s lost in pleasure is for him and him alone.

He puts Isaac on his hands and knees and fucks him a second time behind the coffee table, smacking his ass when Isaac accidentally grabs and splinters it, and finally a third time in the shower, before he finally feels worn out enough to go to bed.

He doesn’t sleep well that night regardless, having repeated nightmares filled with blood and gore and darkness, everything filtered through the eerie vision he has in his kanima form. He keeps waking up and having to confirm he’s still in bed with Isaac, rather than out murdering people not of his volition. After the third time, he gives up and wraps himself around Isaac with all four limbs. Isaac must wake up but he doesn’t protest for once, just nuzzles in closer. Jackson fitfully falls back asleep and wakes up to the faint light of dawn creeping in around the window blinds, feeling unrested. He decides to eschew his morning workout for once and wraps himself impossibly tighter around Isaac, burying his face in his neck and inhaling his comforting smell. Isaac must wake up from it, he starts stroking Jackson’s hair soothingly.

“It’s ok,” Isaac says softly. “I’m here. And you’re right here with me.”

“Can we stay here forever?” Jackson mumbles into Isaac’s neck.

“You have school again in a couple weeks,” Isaac points out reasonably.

Jackson sniffs. “So we can stay here till then?”

“If you’d like,” Isaac says indulgently. “I could deal with Christmas and my birthday in bed with you.”

Jackson draws back a little. “It’s your birthday?! When?”

“December 29th, right smack between Christmas and New Year’s.”

Jackson winces. “That sucks. Did you always get combined presents?” He thinks guiltily about the helicopter ride he’d failed to arrange. That would have been a great early birthday present.

“Every time,” Isaac says wryly.

“Anything in particular you want?”

Isaac looks at him seriously. “I want to go home, Jackson. Are you sure about hanging around here? You were doing well, weren’t you?”

“I thought I was. But if Derek was enough to trigger this kanima shit all over again, maybe I wasn’t as in control as I thought.”

“What did he do anyway, to set you off? I was hiding on the roof watching you, but I couldn’t make out what you guys were saying.”

Jackson scowls. “He implied he could fuck you. Because he won when we were sparring.” Just thinking about it is enough to send his claws out. Jackson looks at them clinically. They’re translucent, the kanima’s claws. With some effort, he makes them retract. When Isaac still hasn’t responded a minute later, Jackson looks at him expectantly. “What?”

Isaac clears his throat. “That just… doesn’t sound like him. What did he say, exactly?”

Jackson tries to remember. “He said… something like it didn’t matter I had lost, because we weren’t playing traditional rules.”

“Oh,” Isaac says uncomfortably. “He probably meant because you’d just auditioned – he could have asked Scott to keep you out of the pack since you didn’t win against him.”

Jackson swallows. He’s messed things up even more than he’d thought, then, with his potential new family member, no less. The Clarke Pack had already been large before he and Ethan had joined, and Clarke hadn’t thought enough of either of them to involve them in auditions for any new members. How was he this stupid?

“But it’s not about whether or not he’s pure evil,” Isaac says quickly, clearly sensing Jackson’s downward spiral. “When he’s around, of course you mentally go back to the time in your life when he was around.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Jackson hates how pathetically weak he is, how even after all these years the kanima side of him can still be triggered so easily.

“And I know you’re self-flagellating about how you should have moved on from all things kanima by now, but you don’t have to do everything in hard mode, surrounded by all the people who bring that back for you.”

Jackson looks at Isaac in surprise. Does his omega have advanced empathy or mindreading skills?

“Why’d you come back to California, Jackson?”

Jackson stiffens. “For Stanford Law. It’s where my dad went. It was always my dream.”

Isaac raises an eyebrow at him. “You know I can tell when you’re lying, right?”

“I just… I didn’t feel right, in London. Ever. It felt like there was some part of me missing or unresolved or something.”

Isaac nods slowly. “What do you think that was?”

Jackson flushes, knowing Isaac won’t like the answer. “Scott, maybe. The pack. I never bonded properly to the London one.”

“Right,” Isaac says, sounding resigned. “But you didn’t come to Los Angeles. You didn’t even tell anyone you were back.”

“I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I – I didn’t think they would want me,” Jackson admits reluctantly. “I chickened out of going down to see them. I thought – I’ll just be close by. And if they need something, I’ll be helpful, I’ll earn a spot, maybe. And then I met you again and – the pack seemed a lot less important.”

Isaac face twitches, and Jackson remembers how he’d reacted to the perceived slight to his pseudo-alpha at Scott’s suggestion Jackson needed to audition to earn his spot. Jackson’s starting to see that conversation in a slightly different light now. But then Isaac smiles a little. “I am annoyingly distracting.”

Jackson nods seriously.

“Well, they want you now, so it’s your choice. Do you really think they can help you? More than they can hurt you?”

Jackson shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know. You’re telling me Derek wasn’t as bad as all that. And I like everyone else.”

“You said you wanted to kill him a couple days ago, before the whole sparring incident,” Isaac points out.

Jackson blushes. He wonders if part of Isaac is disappointed that he hadn’t. Surely there’s something intoxicating about having your pseudo-alpha kill someone for your honor. “Don’t get me wrong, I still think he’s trash for how he treated you. But thank you for stopping me and saving him. You took a huge risk with the kanima.” 

“I couldn’t give two shits about him. I was saving you. I knew you didn’t really want to kill him.”

“Thank you for saving me, then.”

“Anytime,” Isaac says, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

Jackson squeezes back. “Did you want me to?”

Isaac smiles. “Maybe a little. But they’re in the past, for me. You’re my present. And my future. Right?”

Jackson smiles back, feeling warmed at the uncharacteristic display of commitment. “Absolutely. And I’ll gladly throw him into a few more trees. I’m sorry to have dragged you back here. I wish you’d said.”

Isaac shrugs. “I go where you go,” he says simply. “God knows what trouble you’d get in if I left you on your own.”

Jackson blushes.

“Besides, it’s not like I hate being here. I just don’t need it. Although I mean it when I say I don’t think you should be anywhere near Derek, at least.”

“You take really good care of me, huh. It doesn’t seem fair to you. Especially when I’m supposed to be the alpha in this relationship.”

“We take care of each other in our own ways. I wasn’t doing so well before you either, you know. You might need to reevaluate what alpha and omega mean.”

“I protect you physically and you protect me emotionally?” Jackson guesses.

“Not quite,” Isaac says, laughing.

“Well, if taking care of each other goes both ways, then try to stop making decisions to protect me without talking to me first?” 

“Ok, I’ll try,” Isaac says, looking a little ashamed. “What about Alpha Hamamura?”

“I don’t know. I liked her a lot too. And her pack house is kind of awesome. Not that I should be swayed by perks,” Jackson says guiltily.

Isaac smirks. “I’m sure Scott doesn’t think so. But perks are nice. And she’s in Palo Alto, where we live. It’s not like you’d deign to transfer to USC or anything so shameful,” he teases.

Jackson shudders at the thought.

“She clearly has a lot of experience, too. Maybe she can teach you about how to control your kanima better.”

“Maybe,” Jackson agrees, feeling a bit heartened. Maybe between Isaac, Scott and Hamamura there’s hope for him.

“Come on,” Isaac says. “Let’s go see Scott. And your _sister_.”

Jackson makes a face. “That’s so weird.”

“But kind of cool?”

“But kind of cool.”


	18. your own master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac’s in Liam’s face before Jackson has time to blink. “That was a one-time thing,” Isaac hisses. “Jackson’s not doing that ever again. Least of all on purpose.”

Jackson can sense the raised tensions in the pack house the moment he opens the unlocked door. Scott’s yelling about something, but stops when they enter, presumably sensing their arrival. Scott runs into the entrance hall and squeezes Jackson to himself. “I knew you wouldn’t leave,” Scott breathes.

Various pack members, who are gathered in the kitchen clearing the last of breakfast, snort at that, and Jackson guesses Scott had been yelling about Jackson breaking his word and leaving without notice right before they’d shown up. 

“Thanks,” Scott says fervently to Isaac.

Isaac scoffs. “Yeah, it’s Jackson. He definitely doesn’t do what I tell him.”

Alec emerges from the kitchen and steps up to Jackson, his eyes looking a little red-rimmed. “I’m really sorry,” he says softly.

“What?” Jackson is genuinely baffled. “What do you have to be sorry about?”

“I made that stupid comment, about Derek and Isaac, and that’s what set off all the… scaliness, isn’t it? Scott said it wasn’t your fault, you didn’t mean to.”

Jackson blinks. “You didn’t say it to provoke me, you were just reacting honestly. I couldn’t get mad at you about that.”

Alec glances at Scott dubiously before turning back to Jackson. “Anyway, about that dumb thing I said, Derek says it was a misunderstanding and that wasn’t even what he meant. So you guys can work it all out, right?” he asks hopefully. Jackson wonders if Isaac might have been like Alec, if he hadn’t gotten caught up with the wrong alpha in France. Anxious to preserve harmony in the only family he had, even with its members he barely knew.

“Is Derek here?” Isaac demands. “He can’t be here while Jackson is.”

Jackson awkwardly hugs Alec and glares at Scott. “Did you make Alec think my kanima shift was his fault?”

Scott looks a little guilty. “No! It’s not your fault, Alec. I’m sorry I got mad. And Derek’s staying with Peter for now and recovering, he won’t be back unless you want to talk to him.”

“We don’t,” Isaac says coolly. 

This was already starting to feel hopeless. Maybe Isaac was right and they should just go back to Palo Alto and avoid anything that might trigger Jackson, start over fresh with Hamamura.

Jackson’s phone rings then, a number he doesn’t recognize. He excuses himself and steps out in front of the house to answer.

“Is this Jackson Whittemore?” a female voice he doesn’t recognize asks.

“Who’s asking?”

“It’s Gage. From the Hamamura Pack.” Her voice sounds odd.

Jackson blinks in surprise. “Gage. Hey. What can I do for you? We still on for Saturday?”

“No. We’re not.”

“Should we reschedule?”

“Alpha Hamamura is dead.”

Jackson pulls his phone away from his ear and stares at it in disbelief for a moment, but it still shows the call active, and the voice on the other end is unmistakably Gage. “What?!” he demands. “What happened?”

“Do you know someone named Pierre Delecto?” Gage asks. “He showed up at our pack house yesterday and asked for your omega and you. Apparently he thought you two were already in our pack. He killed Alpha Hamamura. And really hurt Sinqua. A group of us got away, but Sinqua and another group are still at the house with Delecto.”

Jackson is silent for a long moment as he tries to process this. He thinks of how kind Lily had been, when she’d had no need to. How welcoming to both him and Isaac, after they’d gone and risked exposing the Palo Alto werewolf community. How she’d pulled him aside to talk to him about becoming an alpha eventually. “Yeah,” he admits. “I know who he is.”

“You know none of this would have happened if Alpha Hamamura hadn’t opened our pack to you and your omega, right?”

“I’m so sorry, Gage. I was not at all expecting him to show up here from France.”

“Don’t be sorry. Fix it.”

“I will,” he promises, despite not having any idea how he might fix anything, let alone a dead alpha and a dangerous new one in his new hometown, targeting Isaac and the pack he’d been seriously considering joining. “Are you and your group safe? Do you have a way to communicate with Sinqua and the rest?”

“We’re safe. We’re staying at the nightclub for now, so it’s not exactly a secret, but he isn’t interested in us. He just wants the omega. We told him none of us even know where he is since you two aren’t at home, but he doesn’t believe us.” She sounds weary, Jackson decides, calm by virtue of having run out of any other type of emotion. “I don’t know about Sinqua’s group. We haven’t been able to get in touch, Delecto must have taken their phones. But I have to believe they’re ok too. They have to be.”

“I hope so,” Jackson says. He can hear members of the McCall Pack calling to him. “Listen, I have to go, but I’ll figure out a way to help your pack. Is this the best number to reach you?”

She agrees it is and Jackson hangs up the phone and adds Gage’s number to it numbly.

Isaac steps out the front door of the house. “There you are. Who was on the phone?” He pauses and looks over Jackson. “You do not look all right,” he accuses. 

“Lily Hamamura’s dead,” Jackson says. “Pierre Delecto killed her. He’s in Palo Alto.”

Isaac freezes and looks more afraid than Jackson’s ever seen him. Jackson wraps his arms around him. “Don’t worry,” Jackson murmurs. “He’ll never get his hands on you again. I won’t allow it.”

Isaac pulls himself out of Jackson’s arms and pulls Jackson down to sit by him on the porch steps, pressing his shoulder against Jackson’s. Jackson feels love, calm, reassurance coming through the touch. He hates that Isaac is tamping down his own fear so Jackson won’t feel it. “No,” Isaac says firmly. “You have to take care of yourself first. You’re in no condition to be taking him on. And you don’t owe them anything.”

“I’m good at this,” Jackson protests. “Fighting people.”

“We all know that, that’s not the issue. The issue is your losing yourself, after you’ve worked so hard to gain control.”

“Gage called me begging for help. He killed Hamamura because of me. And even if I didn’t owe them anything, it’s not like we can live there with him running the town.”

“He killed Hamamura because of _me._ If you don’t care about yourself,” Isaac asks, voice breaking, “what about me? What about me losing you?”

“Because of us, then. But what other options do we have?” Jackson asks helplessly.

“If we can’t live there, we leave. That simple. Anywhere you want. South America?”

Jackson scowls at him. “We’re not spending our lives running from him. He’s made clear that he’ll chase you anywhere at this point. And we have a good life in Palo Alto, we’re not giving that up. I want to go back to Stanford. I want to become a lawyer like my dad. We’ve done enough running.” 

“Fine,” Isaac says angrily. “ _I’ll_ run away. He’ll follow me. And you can have Palo Alto back, rebuild the Hamamura Pack with Gage and the others.”

“Is that a joke?” Jackson asks. “Because it’s not funny.”

“Wasn’t supposed to be,” Isaac says, crossing his arms over his chest. “But you’re not listening to me.”

Jackson crosses his arms too. “I’m not giving you up. And I’m not giving our home up.”

The front door opens, and Liam clears his throat awkwardly. “Sorry, Scott wanted to check on you two. Are you coming back in?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says, marching past Liam back to the kitchen. Isaac and Liam follow him.

“Pierre Delecto – Isaac’s evil ex-alpha – is in Palo Alto,” Jackson announces. “He killed Lily Hamamura, the alpha of all the Palo Alto werewolves.”

“Well fuck,” Malia says.

“What does he want?” Scott asks.

“Me,” Isaac says simply. “Jackson, come on. We’ll go somewhere else, like I said.”

“No,” Jackson says.

“Um. Not to interrupt,” Liam cuts in, “but Jackson’s kind of terrifying and unstoppable, based on what he did to Derek yesterday. So why can’t he just… get rid of Delecto, and Hamamura’s pack can rebuild, and the two of you can live in Palo Alto, happily ever after.”

Isaac’s in Liam’s face before Jackson has time to blink. “That was a one-time thing,” Isaac hisses. “Jackson’s not doing that ever again. Least of all on purpose.”

“How dangerous is Delecto, really?” Scott asks Isaac. “Do we have a shot against him? Can the kanima kill him?”

“Really fucking dangerous,” Isaac grits out. “And he doesn’t play fair. We don’t have a shot as werewolves, especially not if he was able to take down Lily Hamamura with her massive pack behind her. The kanima could probably kill him but losing Jackson to the kanima is not a risk I’m willing to take.”

“If the kanima had a friendly master, though,” Scott says. “Maybe we could make it work? He could kill Delecto, and then we’d return him to human form, like we did last time.”

“You’re not going to be his master,” Isaac says, glaring at Scott. “And last time you _killed_ him.”

“I’m his alpha. I’m the natural choice. And we’re obviously not going to kill him this time.”

Jackson glances between them, feeling like he’s watching a tennis match, only he’s also the ball.

“From what I’ve heard, the kanima is a weapon of vengeance, right?” Malia asks. “So since getting rid of Delecto is vengeance for his omega, maybe his omega is the natural choice to be the kanima’s master.”

Isaac snorts. “No way. That’s the opposite of natural. And I already said I won’t risk Jackson.”

“For the record, the kanima thinks omegas are dumb werewolf shit,” Jackson interjects, glad to have something to add. “Maybe Isaac wouldn’t be that unnatural.”

“Wait. How do you know what the kanima thinks?” Scott demands. “Weren’t you and the kanima totally separate, no memories, no nothing, when you were sixteen?”

“Yes,” Jackson says slowly. “But yesterday was different. Not like when I was sixteen. I wasn’t quite in control, but I was conscious.”

Everyone else stares at him. “And you didn’t think to mention this?” Scott asks.

“It’s only sinking in now,” Jackson admits.

“You’re the kanima’s master,” Malia breathes, looking at Jackson. “Of course.”

“Fuck,” Jackson says. “I think I am. Does that mean we have a shot?”

They all turn to Isaac. “Hold the fuck on,” Isaac says. “I am not on board with this plan. This is some half-ass theory; we don’t even know if it’s true. Even if it is true, what happens if Jackson gets trapped as the kanima, and he’s his own master? Last time incapacitating his master was a big part of getting him back. Would there be literally no way to get him back?”

“And no way to stop him, if he needs stopping?” Liam asks.

Jackson holds up a hand. “As much as I appreciate all your input, maybe stop talking about me like I’m not here. I think I can do it,” he says, with more confidence than he feels. “If I get stuck, you use my connection to Isaac to break me out of it, like last time. And if it seems like I’m still dangerous, you have Derek and Peter kill me again.”

“No!” Isaac cries. “No fucking way.”

“It’s the best option we have,” Jackson says. “He came and attacked wolves in our territory. Threatened _you_. We’re not letting that stand.”

Isaac turns to Scott. “Come on, alpha. Tell him he can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

Scott smiles at Isaac gently. “It’s Jackson. He doesn’t do what I tell him.”

Isaac does not look at all pleased to have his own words parroted back at him. “Just let me go,” he begs softly of Jackson. “I can’t lose you. I can’t have you die, or worse, because of me.”

“You’re asking me to lose you. To let you die, or worse.”

“Pack’s got your back,” Scott says, clapping Jackson on the shoulder. “Both of you. No matter what you decide. Let’s give them a minute, guys.” Scott leads the others back into the backyard, leaving Jackson and Isaac alone.

“Don’t do this to me,” Isaac begs.

“I’d rather die than give you up,” Jackson says. “I only just got you.”

Isaac just shakes his head miserably, blinking away tears.

“I think we have a shot,” Jackson says, trying and failing to sound confident. “Can you try and believe in me?”

“It would help if you believed in yourself,” Isaac points out.

Jackson bites his lip and looks down. Isaac’s not wrong.

“Are you doing this because you think it’s what I want?”

“What? You’ve been pretty clear it’s not what you want.”

“Yeah. But do you think you need to be an alpha to keep me?”

“Do I?”

“ _No_.”

“Then I don’t think that.” Jackson crosses his arms over his chest. “I would have become an alpha sooner or later. It’s just happening… sooner.”

“I don’t want you to,” Isaac says miserably. “It’s not worth it.”

“Maybe this is what makes everything worth it,” Jackson counters. “Maybe this is why I have kanima powers. So I could stop him.”

Isaac scowls. “Do you really believe that? That everything you went through was fate? What about all the work you did to fix yourself?”

Jackson shrugs. “Two things can be true.”

Isaac sighs. “I guess you need to believe it, huh.”

Jackson nods.

Isaac leaps at him suddenly, wrapping his arms around Jackson’s neck. “I don’t know if I can believe in fate, but I believe in you,” he says fervently. “I’ll believe in you until you do too.” He takes a step back and swipes his thumb across Jackson’s cheeks, wiping away tears Jackson hadn’t realized had escaped.

“You _are_ smarter than me,” Jackson says. “I should probably take your word for it.”

“That’s right,” Isaac says. “You’re your own master. That’s what you’ve been building toward, this whole time, with all the discipline and self-control. You just didn’t know it.”

“Really?”

“Never eating a Cheeto,” Isaac says firmly. “It’s a superhuman ability if ever I’ve heard of one.”

Jackson laughs weakly. “Even if I do somehow win _and_ stay human, what if I’m not ready to be an alpha? You said yourself, I need guidance. I keep looking at people like you and Hamamura and Scott to help me decide what to do.”

“That’s what’s going to make you an amazing alpha, Jackson. Realizing you don’t know everything, and surrounding yourself with people you trust to help you. No one’s ever ready. You think Scott was ready? Or Derek? Or fucking Peter or Deucalion or Delecto? All anyone can ask of you is to try your best. And you try harder than anyone I know.” Isaac smirks. “Not to mention, you fucking love bossing people about and telling them how to do things, don’t think I’ve forgotten what a slavedriver you were as lacrosse captain. And I was watching that little rope exercise. Plus, I know what you’re like in bed,” he teases. “I think I’m still sore from last night.”

Jackson bites his lip. “Are you really?” he asks anxiously. “I didn’t mean to.”

Isaac shakes his head and tugs him back into the backyard to find Scott and the others. “We’re going to try it. I don’t expect any of you to come with us,” Jackson announces, even as he fervently hopes Scott doesn’t abandon him to his own devices.

“We’re coming,” Scott says firmly. “You’re ours.”

Jackson flushes. “You realize I won’t be, right? If we succeed? I won’t be part of your pack anymore.”

Alec looks horrified, but Scott answers before he can speak. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll always be part of our pack in a way.” Scott turns to Isaac. “I’m really sorry about doubting you. It just… hurt. It felt like someone had cut my arm off, when I first felt your bond to me break. I’m not going to react the same way with Jackson. I know better now.”

“You better not,” Isaac says, clinging to Jackson’s arm.

“Can we go for a walk, Jacks?” Scott asks.

“Go on, I’ll see you in a bit,” Isaac says, pecking Jackson on the cheek.

Scott and Jackson walk along the same sidewalk they’d walked a couple nights prior.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Scott asks, after they’ve walked in silence for a while.

“No,” Jackson answers honestly. “But I have to.”

“You don’t have to, Jacks. There’s always a choice.”

“If my other options are giving Isaac up to him or running from him the rest of our lives…”

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“I could fight him for you. I’m your alpha. It’s my job.”

“Isaac didn’t think that would work.”

“Isaac doesn’t like me very much these days. And we haven’t seen each other in a long time. Maybe I’m more capable than he thinks.”

“If you die… I’m just going to have to do it anyway. Only then you’ll be dead too. I don’t want that.”

Scott laughs. “You’re going to make me blush, with those heights of affection.”

“I mean it, though,” Jackson says seriously. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me. And especially not you. You have a lot of people relying on you. My… sister. Alec. Liam. All the rest.”

“What about you, though? Don’t you get to rely on me too?”

“I’m not like the others. If I thought you had a better shot than I did, I would let you take it. We’re not in high school fighting about lacrosse glory anymore.”

Scott sighs. “It’s hard for me, you know. Letting you go into danger. It’s my job to protect my pack.”

“I understand. But I think… this might be my pack. Isaac. The Palo Alto werewolves. They need me.”

“And what do you need?”

Jackson shrugs.

“Jackson?”

“Maybe I need to be needed.”

Scott nods slowly. “You’re going to make a great alpha,” he says grudgingly.

Jackson scowls. “You don’t know that.”

Scott grins suddenly. “I’m true alpha Scott McCall, aren’t I? Maybe I have an instinct for these things.”

Jackson shakes his head and chuckles.

“Is that what you want? To be an alpha? I never really wanted it, it just kind of happened.”

“Yeah,” Jackson says, realizing the words are true as he says them. “I always wanted to be the best. Be in charge. And as I grew up a bit, I wanted to protect my people. Maybe I didn’t plan on it so soon but…”

“Well, it’s pretty cool. The connection I feel to the pack is special. And unique for each one of you. Your strength makes me strong. Your pain hurts me. But it makes me strong too.”

“Can I ask you something dumb?”

“That’s my favorite kind of question.”

“Why didn’t you ever check in on me?” Jackson’s going for nonchalant, but he knows it’s not working. “I know I didn’t check in either, but...”

“Oh Jackson,” Scott says, eyes gone soft. “I didn’t think you wanted me to. I thought you’d moved on, built this life for yourself in London you weren’t ever going to come back from. I kept waiting for our bond to break. Some days you just seemed so far away. But it never happened. And now you’re here.” He laughs without humor. “And it’s kind of already too late.”

Jackson considers this, and decides he needs to put himself out there for once. “It doesn’t have to be. I bet I’ll have all kinds of dumb alpha questions.”

Scott smiles at that. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s not too late. Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah.”

“I got a ring. It’s been burning a hole in my sock drawer. I keep waiting for the perfect time to ask Malia, but it never seems right.”

Jackson laughs. “That’s great. What are you so worried about? She’s not exactly going to say no.”

“She might!” Scott protests. “She’s fantastic. And so much prettier than me.”

“Well yeah,” Jackson says, turning his face to the side and clenching his jaw in a way he knows makes him look particularly modelesque. “Check out these genes.”

Scott punches him in the arm. “Stop it, you’re not making me feel better!”

“Well, she likes you. And not that I really get a say but… she could have done worse. She’ll say yes.”

“Well,” Scott says excitedly. “If she does, we’ll kind of be like brothers, yeah?”

Jackson raises an eyebrow. “That’s a lot, McCall.”

“You might have to stop calling me that, if she takes my last name.”

Jackson makes a face. “Maybe if you stop calling me ‘Jacks’.”

Scott just laughs.

They walk back to the house to reconvene with the others. “You want Derek and Peter to come?” Scott asks.

“No,” Isaac says, at the same time that Jackson says, “Yes.”

Isaac glowers at Jackson, who shrugs. “They’re the oldest and most experienced.”

Isaac rolls his eyes. “Fine. Derek and Peter can come and wait in the wings, but I don’t want to see either of them, and I don’t want Jackson to either.”

“Ok,” Jackson says.

“Great!” Scott says brightly. “I’ll let them know, and they can drive separately. In the meantime, how do we help you?” Scott asks seriously. 

Jackson considers. “I just need to practice, I think. I thought I had my kanima powers under control, but I was having, um, a rough day.” He isn’t sure how much Scott and Malia had told the others. He’s aware that werewolves, let alone kanima-werewolves aren’t allowed to use rough days as excuses – all that gets them is a hunter bounty on their head. He’s probably got a few already, to the extent any hunters have figured out he’s back in California. He wonders now, how he’s gone so long without any hunter incidents, wonders if it was just because Alpha Hamamura was so strong in protecting her territory, and sends up a silent prayer of thanks.

Scott nods eagerly. “We can help with that! I do control exercises with Liam all the time.”

Various pack members chime in about what their respective anchors to their humanity are. Scott says his has changed over time, but is the pack and his love for them. Malia says hers is Scott, looking annoyed at herself for admitting it, even as Scott grins. Liam tries to explain something about the sun, the moon and the truth and how they cannot long be hidden. Alec says his is the pack as well, and that Derek’s is anger.

“Right,” Isaac says dryly. “His secret is that he’s always angry.” He bites his lip. “That actually might not be a bad idea for you,” he tells Jackson reluctantly.

Jackson scowls. “I don’t want my anchor to be anger.” Isaac’s not wrong that he might have a couple of anger issues, but Jackson’s getting tired of Hulk jokes.

“Well, what’s your anchor now?” Scott asks kindly, instead of saying that anger is kind of Jackson’s whole thing.

“I don’t know, exactly,” Jackson says. “I just. Don’t want to be out of control. I don’t want to hurt anyone again.”

“Huh. The way you keep control is by thinking about keeping control?”

Jackson frowns. “I don’t really think anything. I just focus really hard on what I want to happen and I work at it till it happens.”

“Doesn’t sound like you at all,” Isaac says, sounding amused. “You started doing that when you were, what, five?”

“I still remember five-year-old Jackson at kindergarten being completely terrible to play legos with,” Scott puts in, “because he was so meticulous and everything had to be just perfect, and the rest of us just wanted to smash blocks together.”

Jackson sniffs. “You were just jealous.”

Scott grins. “Sure was, Jacks.”

“Well show us what you can control now,” Liam suggests.

Jackson shows them the aspects of the kanima he can safely control: the eyes, claws and tail. 

“And what happens when you try and bring out the scales?” Scott asks.

“I don’t,” Jackson says with a frown. “I push that down if it tries to manifest.”

“Sounds like you need to,” Liam says, “if you’re going to master it.”

Jackson looks down at his arms and wills scales to appear, but they refuse to come, much to his frustration. He knows his heart isn’t in it, though.

“Maybe he needs a better reason to,” Theo says, after a moment. He steps up close behind Isaac and wraps his arms around his stiff form, trailing one hand slowly across his chest. “Does this bother you? Jacks?”

Jackson growls at him. When Theo doesn’t let go, he goes into his wolf half-shift and growls again.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to turn into,” Theo points out unhelpfully.

“That’s quite enough of that,” Isaac says, and Jackson grabs Theo’s shoulder and wrenches him off Isaac, before enveloping Isaac in his own arms. “You don’t smell right,” he murmurs in distress, rubbing one arm over Isaac’s back.

“It’s fine, Jackson,” Isaac says. “My clothes and I are both washable.”

“It worked for Derek,” Theo says sulkily, rubbing his shoulder where Jackson had wrenched him off.

“Maybe you’re not threatening enough,” Isaac sneers.

“That’s not it, the kanima wants vengeance,” Jackson says, connecting the dots as he speaks. “It only really reacts to a desire for vengeance.”

“What’d Derek do that was so much worse than me?” Theo asks.

“It’s complicated,” Isaac says shortly, making clear no follow-up questions are invited. “Vengeance for me?”

“No,” Jackson says. “I mean, kind of, but it was me. It was what _I_ wanted vengeance for.”

“So think about all the vengeance you want to seek, and focus on bringing the scales out,” Theo prompts. “I can be the bad guy some more, if you like. I’m quite good at it.” He leers at Isaac.

“Like that time you let me get burned with wolfsbane, because you were too busy fighting with Liam to focus?” Alec suggests, glaring at Theo.

Theo sputters. “That was his dumb idea!” he cries, pointing at Jackson.

Jackson tries to focus, summons up every protective instinct he has, toward Isaac, toward Alec, toward this whole pack, really. If anyone hurt a single one of them, he would want vengeance, wouldn’t he? Jackson grins suddenly, and displays his scale-smattered arms to the pack. “It’s working.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments much appreciated.


End file.
